Confessions of a Tomboy Princess
by Zoggerific
Summary: I am not Sally Acorn. We share one body and past but not our souls. I don't know why I'm here or why I've done such terrible things. And I am writing this diary so that someday, my people can understand what it was like to lead the Freedom Fighters through the Great War. A SATAM AU. Edited by fantastic editors VictorLincolnPine and ShadAmy1Fan - Shylah McVey. Picture from Chris000
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I'm a Freedom Fighter, or rather, was a Freedom Fighter; that's the name Sonic coined for us. It's cheesy, but it fits.

You may have heard of my actions during the Great Struggle, and while in no way do I expect vindication, I expect your judgment to be fair. Will future generations judge me a monster, or a ruthless pragmatist willing to do whatever was necessary? I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know; it's not up to me to decide.

Perhaps you are getting confused; I suppose I have gotten a little ahead of myself. I believe I should begin with the truth: I'm not Sally Alicia Acorn, the younger sister to Elias Acorn and the daughter of Maximillian and Alicia Acorn. I believe it's essential I should get this issue out of the way; even if the world doesn't acknowledge it. This is the truth and the only truth which I can establish with absolute certainty.

But I'm her spitting image, down to even the most minute of details. Admittedly, there have been a few changes; she probably wouldn't have approved of either my fashion sense or hairstyle, and she certainly wouldn't have approved of the collection of scars I accumulated while masquerading in her life.

But if that was all there was to it; if I was just some doppelganger forced into her life by some foreign entity without knowing how or why that would at least be something I could accept. For certain, I was very willing to entertain this theory, but that's simply not the case.

You see, I'm not merely her body double, I share her memories too. I remember life from behind her eyes. I remember her perceptions, her hopes, her dreams and her prejudices. All her memories are my memories. No more, no less. What's worse? I have no other memories besides hers; no other point of comparison to call my own.

Yet, I'm not Sally. I do not follow her thoughts. I don't empathize with her feelings. I don't share her - soul. How can this be possible? How can you share someone's form and memories down to the finest of details and yet be someone different? Is a person not the collective sum of their lifelong experiences?

I still haven't arrived at an answer. It's a question thick with importance, filled with conjecture and overwhelmed with the desperate hope that some answer may be found. If a person truly was the sum of their past, then I had just summed up Sally's life and came to an altogether different result.

I record this philosophical quandary down in my diary. In the hopes that someday I may arrive at more satisfactory answers. I know the real Sally in such times of crisis would have reached out to her close inner circle of friends for counsel and guidance, but it no longer matters what she would do; it's not what I would do. Her friendships are not my own, I admit I'll need their strength for the challenges ahead, but I have no way of obtaining their help without calling upon people who are sure they know me, but really do not. I regret it sometimes, being unable to confide in my compatriots, but how could I have explained my crisis of identity to them when I do not understand it myself?

No, this is a proverbial Gordian Knot which I must unravel on my own.

I think, perhaps, people shouldn't be defined by whom they mingled with. Looking at history, the great men and women of the world have always been defined by their enemies. My father's enemies were the Overlanders, and history will define my father for his imprudence. In his desperation for final victory during the Great War, he turned to one of their own for solutions; a mistake that resulted in his banishment to the Zone of Silence.

Who's my enemy you may ask? This is a subject to which Sally and I share strongly in common.

Imagine if you will, being dragged in chains. Your captors? Cold unfeeling steel. Some are the man-sized SWATbots; others, metallic facsimiles of your fellow Mobians; a foretelling of your inevitable fate. Feel the panic, apprehension and slowly dawning realization of your fate as you are packed together. Perhaps you're with family and friends -there's a mercy in that- spending your final free moments with people you know.

Smell the acrid stench of pollution as the macabre procession drags steadily along. Eventually, you arrive at the end of the journey. In front of you stands the very thing you have heard only in rumours and hushed stories: the Roboticizer. There is little time to gawk and stare. Already, your metallic captors are hard at work, guided by an unseen hand. One-by-one, the unfeeling SWATbots seize members of the crowd. Parents separated from their children, couples are broken apart. Age and physical disability are no object to the SWATbot's scanners. The unfortunate victims are led like lambs into the dreaded machine. Some resist, some turn to flee, but it's futile in the end.

The machine hums to life and before your eyes, flesh and living tissue are warped into their mechanical equivalent. Shrill screams ring into your ears as their bodies twist beyond recognition. Where once stood flesh and blood, a Robian stands instead; their bodies slaved towards the will of Robotnik.

It was nearly a decade since Robotnik's coup d'état. Over a decade since the vast majority of the populace was enslaved and reduced to automatons slaving away at the dictator's megalithic projects. Nearly a decade since Mobotropolis, the once vibrant capital of the Acorn Kingdom, was transformed into the nightmare land of Robotropolis. Our little group was fortunate enough to escape during the early days of the coup. Aunt Rosie, Sally's governess led our exodus of a dozen frightened children through the Great Forest to the former royal retreat, Knothole, which became our new home.

I like that name, 'Knothole', it sounds homely.

In the years since our numbers grew as a steady trickle of survivors stumbled across our little set-up; growing from the dozens to the low hundreds, and in the process becoming a village. Our group too grew and matured, childish pursuits neglected in favour of survival skills like hunting, scavenging, handling high explosives and small unit tactics. We started small, launching forays into the outlying reaches of Mobotropolis for supplies. Now? We're striking back.

Some days, we free captured survivors. Other times, it's for weapons and materials, but most importantly we stay hidden and try to preserve our strength.

Perhaps, there are other groups like us, still fighting the good fight, but it's all baseless speculation. All I know is that whatever we're doing isn't good enough. Genuine success is rare and hard-won. Like the day we freed the roboticized mind of Sir Charles. He's in Robotropolis now, able to pass effortlessly as one of the countless menial Workerbot Robians; that was our first genuine victory. Both an intelligence victory as well as a moral one, knowing our captured families and friends still awaited salvation. But other times, we lose people; more than I find myself comfortable with.

In my dark moments, when I expect my friends and I to be dragged before the Roboticizer, I find myself wondering whether it would be better to ask as a favour from the dictator to go first; if only to be spared the feeling of anguish, of failure. I know this is the only mercy I can expect because if our positions were reversed, I wouldn't show any mercy at all.


	2. Meet Sally

**Meet Sally**

My first true memory, of which I know for certain is mine and not Sally's, was when I found myself rudely roused on a morning some two months ago. I know this was me -the true me- when I felt a deep confusion. Deep down inside, I felt wrong. My skin felt different, almost as though it was hugging me in all the wrong places. For a moment I felt as though I were experiencing an out-of-body sensation, not knowing whether I had claws, paws or horns before it passed as quickly as it came.

Just what had I been doing last night? I struggled to recall the details but drew a blank as my head pounded from a debilitating lack of sleep. My head spun as a wave of exhaustion crept over me, almost as though I had not managed to garner a wink of sleep during the night.

After a brief struggle, I managed to extricate myself from my bedraggled bed-sheets before inspecting myself through bleary eyes. But try as I may, I failed to notice anything unusual. Something was definitely different though. Something I could not place. My alarm/palm pad NICOLE beeped incessantly, a loud cacophony which snapped me from my self-inspection and added to my pounding headache.

I tossed and groaned, curling my worn and yellowing pillow around my head in a futile attempt to muffle the noise, but my make-shift obstruction couldn't block it out. If anything, the noise seemed to grow in intensity, in spite of my attempts.

So, I smashed NICOLE.

With a lazily aimed throw, NICOLE met the hard surface of my nightstand. Her sensitive casing bent and warped; spilling her delicate electronic components across the surface. With a whine, much like a dying beast, the alarm ceased. Then, with a loud groan, I turned over and promptly went back to sleep.

This was not Sally's regular behaviour. For a start, NICOLE was the most advanced handheld computer created on Mobius; an irreplaceable and priceless gift from her father shortly before the coup. Not a mere trinket. Sally, the real Sally, would never have treated her in so careless a manner.

It would be some time before I would get into the habit of analyzing all my reactions to stimuli to determine whether they were genuinely my own, or some vestigial effect of Sally's memories. At the time though, all I knew was that I was irascible from being roused and all I cared for was to sleep in, regardless of the consequences.

I didn't rise till I felt Tails poking me in the side. Forcing my eyes open, I was instantly assaulted by bright morning sunlight piercing through the latticed window of my hut. A zephyr spilt through the unlatched window like a spectre, bringing fresh and crisp air in its wake. Outside, brightly coloured Flickies with their chilli-coloured beaks were twitting their morning melody, filling the air with a rhapsody of song.

By now, Princess Sally Acorn would have been up and about, busy as a worker bee, her regal status regardless. As far as she was concerned, an hour spent not furthering the course of the Freedom Fighters was an hour frittered away. An hour that could be better spent pouring over schematics of Robotropolis; her keen eyes flicking over every detail, searching for any flaw or oversight in a plan that would result in the difference between a 'milk run' mission, or ruinous disaster.

"Hey, Aunt Sally?" Tails spoke directly into my ear, his tone was boisterous and mildly chiding, and definitely tinged with enthusiasm causing me to twitch slightly in annoyance. "Mobius to Sally! Are you awake yet?"

I gritted my teeth, extremely put-off by the sound of my charge's voice. "I'm still asleep" I mumbled in reply while swatting away his gloved hand.

"I would say you are pretty awake, Aunt Sally." Tails retorted, "come on, slowpoke."

"Right, right, breakfast." I said as I tugged my thin blanket over my head and burrowed deeper into the worn pillows, "wake me when it's time for lunch."

"Come on, Aunt Sally." Tails protested, "you can't possibly stay in bed all day!"

"Can't I?" I growled in frustration.

"Um, nuh-uh." Tails replied cocking his head to the side quizzically while observing me with his most pleading expression. The young kit clearly knew just what buttons to push on his adoptive guardian.

Left with no choice, I sighed and begrudgingly threw off my tangled bed-sheets. "Fine," I said, "time for another wonderful morning."

"Alright, cool, I'll see ya later down by the mess hall for some grub, Aunt Sally." Tails mentioned cheerfully. If he had noticed my sarcasm, the two-tailed fox kit showed no hint of it. As he headed for the door, I felt a sudden urge to kick him in the rear, but held back, squashing the intrusive thought to the back of my mind. I should have taken this as a warning sign.

Getting through Sally's morning routine was a chore. As befitted a member of royalty, albeit one in exile, Sally was fastidious about her cleanliness. She showered as often as her strictly rationed supplies of clean water would allow it; which was usually every other day.

Today, I would indulge myself. I expended in my shower what must have been three-days' worth of water rations and would probably have to make do with sponging myself off over the next few days. However, in spite of the copious use of water, I was unable to shake off my feelings of unease. Stepping out of the shower room feeling marginally better, I decided to banish the feeling as 'morning blues'.

Then, I brushed my teeth.

Sally's bathroom was her 'Zen Garden', a place of solitude within the confines of her abode. There, she placed a photograph of her close companions: the original Freedom Fighters. As per her morning ritual, Sally used it to remind herself of their cause. Not deviating from her usual observance, I reached for it myself, thumbing over each member of the Original Freedom Fighters in quiet contemplation, and let the memories flow…

* * *

…It was night, I was back in Robotropolis. I spun around with unnatural speed, having felt the rocket before I heard its explosion; creating a pillar of fiery smoke, dust, and great rags of fire in its wake. My ears ring. A buzz bomber drones overhead. Its quad mechanical wings letting out a long whine as it climbed for more altitude.

Another rocket streaks up. A surface-to-air fired-off by Rotor. The semtex within ignites in a fiery ball of orange-yellow flame. It billows outwards, engulfing the drone; completely obliterating it. The noise reverberates over the ruins as effectively as a thunderclap. If the badniks hadn't given away the game, the explosion certainly had.

I tried to get-up. But there's a body lying on me, Turtle. His weight was pinning me down. I tried to lift him off, to lift the dead thing off me. Only, it wasn't dead. It was moaning, groaning. I ignored it. My ears were still ringing from the last explosion.

Had to get free; had to get Home, to safety. My arms felt like jelly. I had to lift up with my legs instead, but I only had one; the other trails uselessly behind me, blood oozing from a piece of shrapnel lodged in the side. Fear and adrenalin were what kept me going. Mostly though, I felt pain. I tried to slide. That was better. The floor was wood, smooth and slick with blood, oil and lubricants; some of the former being my own. I reached out with my hands and pushed. Had to get free. Had to get free to help. I dragged myself slowly, carefully, gingerly beneath the fallen form of Tommy Turtle as he whimpered.

"Geoffrey" I called out for the skunk I hoped was still nearby.

"Yeah, I'm here." He stood poised, ready for trouble. In spite of the din of battle, his lime-green army beret remained securely on his head and a bandolier of spare bolts was slung over his shoulder. In one hand, he brandished a crossbow, and with the other, he grasped my outstretched arm. He pulls, and with a lurch, I'm free. I stagger to my feet shakily, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through my crippled leg. I shift my weight away, coming to rest on a mouldering mannequin.

Wait, a mannequin?

I was in a fabric cutting room. A showroom for the kind of dresses the rich and fancy wore to formal events. It was all covered in dust and mildew from neglect. Around the room there were hugely wide, long tables covered in cloth. One tilted up precariously, where a leg had been broken off entirely during the fight. Big rolls of patterned fabrics on that end weighed the table down and made it balance like a seesaw; neither up nor down. Overhead, there were banks of fluorescent lights with splashes of stylish neon on the bare brick walls. While strewn all over the place were piles of rubble and broken robots.

I saw Bunnie limping out from behind an overturned cart of loose fabric trimmings. She was alive. I was relieved; so very relieved. For the last I had seen of her she was in trouble. "Geoffrey? Sally Girl? Where's Twan?" she asked, more concerned about the coyote than the visible sparks and odd whirring noises coming from the gash in her roboticized limb.

I didn't answer. I didn't know the answer.

Bunnie extended her long robotic limbs and started shovelling and sifting through battlefield detritus and the broken bodies of our SWATbot opponents. Until eventually, she found the coyote's crumpled form lying beneath one. His chest rose steadily up and down. He was alive.

"Antoine, are you hurt?" I called, though he didn't react. "Antoine?" I asked again, concerned.

"He's okay Sally Girl. Twan just stunned that's all. Ah'm sure he'll be fine lickety-split." Bunnie said to reassure me and possibly herself as well.

As if to prove her words right Antoine shifted "Wah zis? Oh, mon head" The coyote complained groggily.

"Idiot," Bunnie growled at Antoine, somehow managing to cram a significant amount of affection within that verbal snipe, "that was a gosh dang crazy thing to do, Twan! What in tarnation made you try to stab a badnik with yer sword?"

"You know, zis was not such a good idea after all" Antoine moaned while clutching his head.

In the distance, out through the big doors down the hallway. I heard loud gnashing, smashing noises. It was Amy. The pink hedgehog wasn't fighting. Not anymore, just aimlessly raging; roaring with mad frustration as she mutilated the desiccated remains of her fallen foes with her enormous 'Piko-Piko-Hammer'. So much like the frustration of a feral beast looking for fresh victims and finding none.

"Sal?" I felt the speaker`s movement before I could see him. Sonic was already at my side; helping me to stand. He was just a kid then, but he was already an accomplished fighter. He got us out of this mess. Somehow, we survived. We would make it back home ... all but one of us.

"Someone ... so cold . . . help . . ."

We had been in many fights; so very many. This one was bad. This one would invade my sleep and leave me sweating and crying from night terrors. Tommy was hurt, Badly. He had lost so much blood; so very much. His face was pale. The colour was draining from his face. It was white and waxy, like a white candle.

"I'm cold," uttered the dying turtle, "Just. . . just get me a blanket or ... "

"Sally, more will show up. We have to leave now" Geoffrey cautioned.

"I'm scared. Does that. . . please don't leave me behind!" he gasped.

"I won't leave you behind," I whispered. It was a lie, a little white lie to assuage a fading friend.

"Come on, Sally." it was Geoffrey again, this time imploringly. The others were already climbing their way out of the ruined building. Having spared only a few sidelong glances at their fallen friend

"The pain … can't you help, Sally? Cold. Help me. Don't leave me here!" he grasped my hand weakly.

"Sally … go." This time the skunk had taken my hand, forcing me to leave.

"I'm sorry. I've to go" I whispered regretfully. Setting my jaw, I turned to leave. All while dragging my useless leg behind me. Waiting for me outside was Bunnie's outstretched hand, helping me to the surface. Pretty soon we would be joking and laughing, trying anything to make ourselves forget…

* * *

Instantly, I squeeze my leg, brushing a finger across the mottled discolouration virtually hidden by short brown fur. It's okay now. No blood. No shrapnel. Just a scar. Just a memory. I removed the toothbrush from my mouth; pink-stained toothpaste trickled out from the corners.

I had brushed till my gums bled!

I spat into the sink, observing my haunted appearance in the mirror. With trembling hands, I planted the picture face down. Was this what it was like to go nuts?

Frowning, I went through the remaining motions of Sally's morning routine. I combed my bedraggled auburn hair, using a measured amount of clean water to set it in place. The entire time, I felt like a marionette whose puppeteer had grown bored and was winging their way through the show.

I stormed out of towards the mess hall in the foulest mood I could remember feeling. By now the sun had risen high, sending its brilliant golden beams spearing straight down across the village in a gorgeous, coruscating flood of lambent majesty graciously set for me.

Antoine, our usual cook, had prepared pancakes flavoured with homemade jam from which stared at me invitingly as I salivated in anticipation. With the first tentative nibble, I knew something was wrong. It was not the texture which reminded me strongly of cardboard; that could be expected from food past the sell-by date. It was something else.

Tersely, I savoured the sample in my mouth, dissecting the individual flavours offered by the morsel. The flavour was just as I remembered it. A little cold perhaps, but that could be explained by my extended stay in bed. Then, like a bolt from the blue, a thought struck me. This was something else. Something new and altogether different from what my borrowed memories had led me to expect.

Those pancakes tasted just like always, and yet I despised them. That was when the first mental break started to happen, the first moment when I became acutely aware that I was not who I had been when I went to bed the previous night. Can you imagine that feeling? The feeling that everything is not as it should be? That the nature of your existence as you knew it was a lie? Not as a rationed-out argument but a deep certainty so great as to be absolutely true. The shock snapped me like a twig. I panicked, and grabbing the table in front of me, shoved it into the wall with a burst of strength. However, if you think shoving a table was the extent of my overreaction, you are dead wrong.

Mobians have an innate strength stemming from our primaeval past. Sir Charles, Sally's personal tutor and a wise philosopher explained it to her once. The young princess had been grounded to her room, nursing a broken arm from a violent sibling spat. I couldn't remember much about the argument itself but the lesson stuck. In our distant past, before we had the gift of fire and spears with which to fend for ourselves, we were prey, and all we had to protect ourselves from predators was our speed and strength. Sally had that strength, refined by years spent fighting against Robotnik. I had all her mental skills and physical ability, but none of her self-control, and when I threw the table, it was with all the strength she possessed.

The side of the wall buckled and the flimsy handmade table splintered apart. I stared for a moment, mouth agape at the extent of my own strength before I assessed the damage. Briefly, I wondered if it would be worthwhile including bulky furniture to our next salvage run to Robotropolis. There I stood, thinking about finding replacements and not think about what I had done, what I had really done, until I heard pained sobs from amid the pile of wood, chipped pieces of drywall and broken pewter dishes. Then the realization hit me, and for the second time in under a minute, my world dropped out from beneath me. Tails had been between the table and the wall.

Having inherited Sally's honed reflexes from spelunking through the deadly realm of Robotropolis, I was over at his side in an instant. Tails was … hurt. If he had been a regular fox he may not have survived. Fortunately, Tails was a chaos wielder, channelling them primarily through his twin namesakes. It enabled him to fly and made him much more durable than the average Mobian, even as a kit. He was alive, even semi-conscious, albeit extremely hurt.

Sally was no stranger to injuries. It wasn't a proud thing she could attest to, but she had the dubious honour of witnessing more than her fair share. Her trained eyes had a knack for such things. Pushing down the lump in my throat, I scanned his twitching form. His skin was split in a dozen places, limbs contorted in strange angles. I held my breath for a moment, frozen in blood-curdling horror. A chill washed down my back. A lead weight sat in my stomach and my throat ran bone-dry.

The long drawn out moment was only shattered when Tails let out a pained wheeze, coughing out flecks of blood. I met Tails' eyes with my own. His sky-blue eyes looked so terrified. When I reflect on that terrible moment now, that's what I remember most of all. All I could see were his pain filled eyes, looking at me with such shock and fear. His mouth twitched slightly. He couldn't draw enough air into his lungs, but I knew he wanted to scream.

I had been conscious for less than an hour and already I had managed to nearly kill one of Sally's closest friends. I didn't know what was going on. I didn't realize who I wasn't yet. All I knew was that Tails was hurt bad, possibly dying, and it was all my fault. I remembered crying and screaming his name. Tears distorted my vision making the event seem surreal. As though I were observing some distant event unfold through a kaleidoscope of colour. I dropped next to him, frantically nuzzling him "Stay with me, Tails." I called. I wasn't sure what I was trying to accomplish, but as we already established, rational thinking wasn't on my cards at the time.

The other residents of Knothole came quickly. A make-shift stretcher was brought out, something to take Tails to Doctor Quack with. We were so fortunate when Sonic was able to free the former Royal Physician from Robotnik's clutches. The ageing doctor quickly proved himself a valuable member of the Freedom Fighters, being able to pull off medical miracles with the scarce supplies at hand.

I couldn't recall the exact words of all who came to help, but I do remember that all were willing to do their part to make sure the youngest resident of Knothole was alright. It's one of the best parts of my fellow residents really: the ability to see someone hurt, drop whatever they were doing and come together to help. I have many problems with my fellows, but this isn't one of them.

In some ways, I ought to be thankful for the breakfast fiasco. Otherwise, I don't think I would have been as willing to co-operate with my fellow Freedom Fighters who merely wanted to help. I don't think Sally would have been willing to co-operate either, but for entirely different reasons. Before I could fully process what was happening Tails and I were carried over to Doctor Quack`s clinic, where a small crowd of concerned residents gathered outside. The doctor himself was outside and kept asking me questions even as he cleared the crowd to make way for his patients. I don't remember what his questions were or how I answered, but I was sure I gave the impression of not being in a right state of mind.

"What happened, child?" Doctor Quack asked while shinning a penlight into my eyes, snapping me from my nearly catatonic state; I slapped it away.

"I don't know" I snapped, returning my attention to Tails, who was busy twitching and gasping. It was too painful for him to stop moving, even though it was still painful to do so. During the stretcher ride, he had even begun to emit a distressing keening noise. How I wished he would stop. The noise was almost worse than the sight of his mangled body. I laid my ears flat against my head in distress and pleaded to the doctor, "Help him!" I demanded.

"As the royal physician, I must attend to the princess first," he replied patiently, "if you let me examine you for a moment…" he began adjusting the stethoscope on his neck.

"I don't care," I snarled, "give him something for the pain, now!". The doctor ignored my protest and shone his penlight into my other eye. My fists began to clench and my jaw rooted. Rage hit me like a sledgehammer. Before I realized what I was doing, I had grabbed the old doctor by his sleeves and slammed him against the window of the clinic so hard it rattled. Onlookers peering through the window gasped in shock at the sudden violence, but I didn't care. I pressed my face onto his creasing beak. "Help him!" I screamed, spraying spittle.

His eyes were wide, his webbed feet scrambled for traction below him as he feebly attempted to struggle free. I grabbed a hold of his throat with my other free hand. "I can help, please let me go!" he pleaded weakly within my grasp; The pressure on his neck making it a struggle for him to breathe.

"I don't believe you" I hissed in a low voice, tightening the pressure. He tried to say more, but couldn't as he choked and squirmed. The veins on his eyes bulged as the doctor slowly asphyxiated, yet I didn't relent. I had to have held him for almost a minute. It felt like an eternity. I wanted him hurt. I wanted him punished. He hadn't acted the way I wanted and left a friend in pain.

Throwing the table was a moment of panic, of existential fear. Was it a massive overreaction? Certainly, but justifiable nonetheless. But my desire to punish and choke the life out of him? That was so out past left field for Sally that it must have been me; another indicator of who I am. I didn't want to kill him then, but I think I would have. Luckily, my fellow Freedom Fighters wouldn't let me make that mistake.

"Sally Girl!" Bunnie's voice cut through the haze of my rage. She shoved her way through the horrified crowd, excusing herself for everyone she had to step over with her long mechanical limbs. Behind her was Dulcy the dragon and Antoine.

"Bunnie!" I called back while dropping the waterfowl unceremoniously on the floor "Tails is hurt!"

"Ah heard all about it, came as soon as ah heard" Bunnie replied making her way over to me. I gave her a solid hug. Despite the heaviness in my stomach, I felt a slight flutter. In spite of the unwelcome feeling of her robotic digits stroking my hair, her biological core gave a sense of warmth and making the atmosphere within the walls seem a little less bleak.

Out of Sally's friends, Bunnie had the unique quality of solidity. Behind her mechanical limbs lay a strong Mobian heart. If I were a storm-tossed mariner, she would be the ideal rock I could cling to. She's not my favourite person, but I get along better with her better than most.

Having clumsily pushed her way through the crowd like an enormous green plough, Dulcy stumbled and her clawed hand tore through the thatched roof of the clinic. Unable to safely extricate her hand, Dulcy opted to give the clinic a new skylight by tearing a hole large enough for her head before peering through. "Oh, Tails" Dulcy gasped in dismay as tears welled-up from the corners of her eyes. Tails' eyes rolled towards Dulcy with such hope and relief in his eyes that I nearly collapsed. While Bunnie may be solid as a rock, Dulcy, I go to for moral support. It almost makes me want to overlook her bad qualities.

Sometimes, the adolescent dragon would mistake other residents for her recently roboticized mother, Sabina. Other times, Sally even caught the dragon sucking on her thumb when she thought no one was looking. In her darker moments, Sally had despaired at Dulcy's childishness thinking of her as weak, ditzy and absent-minded. Of course, she had the tack to keep this to herself

"Princess, what eez happened, ver you attacked?" Antoine asked me hesitatingly.

"Stop simpering!" I snapped. He gave a hurt look like I had actually struck him. Antoine, oh Antoine; alone among all of Sally's friends, how I hated him the most. I simply can't imagine how she could have tolerated him before. I know there is a lot more to him than his cowardice and false bravado suggested. But that outward persona was so … conceited, vain and selfish. I guess I am no stranger to any of these qualities myself. Do I hate him because he reminds me of who I am? Or do I hate him for who I am not?

"The side of the mess hall had a big ole hole in the side, passed by it on the way here," Bunnie said, "what happened? Are yer hurt, did anyone try to hurt you?"

"I don't know," I replied as my shoulders slumped and I sank to the floor. I don't think I was intentionally lying. I was in denial, trying to repress the memory of the event. Maybe, just maybe, if I imagined hard enough, it wouldn't be real the next time I opened my eyes. It didn't work, but you can't say I didn't try.

Adrenalin is a funny thing; it lets you face your greatest fear without a moment's hesitation, but afterwards, when the job is done, you wind up feeling raw, hollow and cold. I was feeling that now, staring at the recovering doctor from my seated position. Shifting my attention away, I stared briefly at Tails and tried hard not to think about how he ended up in that condition. I failed.

"Sally Girl, please tell me what happened," Bunnie asked while crouching down to my level. She met my gaze with her own; her eyes were tightly focused and worried. I had all of Sally's memories and I knew her best girlfriend Bunnie Rabbot well. I could have used her knowledge to fabricate a convincing lie or twist the sequence of events into a half-truth to the farm bunny's satisfaction. If I had been conscious within this world for more than a day I would have, but I didn't know better. I thought Bunnie was my friend, so I looked her in the eye and told her the complete and honest truth.

"I didn't like my pancakes.''


	3. Alienation

**Alienation**

You can just imagine how well that answer went over. No, they didn't get what I meant. To them, my answer was off-the-cuff, a complete non-sequitur. Bunnie and Dulcy decided that I was too distraught to answer questions and insisted I find a doctor, but a different doctor, and not Doctor Quack, who I had…well…startled.

They brought me to Amy instead; she was full-time Freedom Fighter and part-time counsellor. I don't think I was being a particularly cooperative patient, but at least I didn't make an attempt on her life. Sally's friends cajoled me to swallow some pills to calm my fraying nerves. I don't remember much about their prying attempts in my drug-induced haze, only that their questions were stonewalled with either cold stony silence or a string of nonsensical responses that only made sense to me at the time.

Meanwhile, Doctor Quack had made Tails ingest a dangerously large quantity of painkillers to relieve his pain. All this was occurring while I sat in mildly drug-induced shock. I didn't eat anything for the rest of the day; how could I? They tried to make me, but the memory of my morning panic was too fresh and too painful for me to maintain an appetite. While I refused all solid foods, I did consume a copious amount of stale instant coffee; it tasted sandy and gritty, but it kept me going.

Doctor Quack, in spite of the earlier choking incident, wanted me to stay at the clinic overnight for observation; Bunnie and Dulcy both offered to let me stay at their own homes overnight as well. They only had the best intentions; merely wanting to keep an eye on me to make sure that I, or rather Sally, was okay; I rejected all of their offers. I was probably being pretty rude to all of Sally's friends, but I honestly do not recall. If I had, they didn't mention it or bring up my behaviour. So, I guess it wasn't too bad.

In any case, I mumbled any excuse I could to placate them -to assure them I was okay- before leaving them and returning home to my familiar hut where it sat like a timid mouse beneath the sprawling boughs of an ancient oak. I didn't want to be looked after. I didn't want kindness, forgiveness, or well-wishes. I just wanted to be alone ... and I got it.

Before I knew it, it was night-time. A pitch-black curtain draped over the sky, broken only by the moon, round as an exquisitely formed pearl. I had managed to waste an entire day. I can't tell you how upset that makes me feel now. The first day I was truly alive, wasted. Yes, I am bitter. Why shouldn't I be? An entire day wasted because of a moment of carelessness.

I began to pace, my nerves too jittery from the caffeine coursing through my veins to stay still. Sally's hut was as spare and immaculate as a monk's cell; a sharp contrast to my own dishevelled appearance. That is until my eyes fell upon a pile of junk splayed out over the surface of my nightstand.

I shrieked.

Frantically, I scrambled to NICOLE's desiccated form. I pawed under the bed and over every fibre of carpet; until I had gathered-up every loose component and laid them out on my nightstand in some semblance of order. Sally could describe herself as many things: from Freedom fighter to Princess-in-exile, but she was no mechanic.

As a rule of thumb, I could generally use any of Sally's pre-existing skills. However, my attempts at using those she didn't already possess were clumsy and probably served only to cause further damage. In the end, I gave up after failing even to elicit so much as a flicker from the now inert computer, now as useful as a paperweight, before unceremoniously dumping what remained of NICOLE into a wastepaper bin. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the pile of junk. It felt odd, Sally certainly didn't think of NICOLE as a mere tool. She would have felt a loss of a close friend and ally whom would provide words of wisdom and counsel when needed.

Instead of feeling any pang of loss I felt liberated, somehow invigorated by NICOLE`s demise; as though I would be a better person without her constant judgments. I laughed while staring at her broken remains. I laughed all the way to the bathroom. I even laughed as I watched Sally's stupid face staring back at me in the mirror. Then I screamed, and smashed my mirror to pieces with a ceramic pitcher. Glass shards flew everywhere, and fell onto the sink and all over the bathroom floor. Then I curled up into fetal position amid the pile of broken glass shards and began to sob.

Sally was no stranger to despair. One time, her elder bother Elias was injured in a combat training session with the royal guard. She saw him, lying in a hospital bed with tubes reaching through his nostrils and wired to dozens of large medical machines. In Sally's young imagination they were torture devices, filled with blinking dials, diodes and incomprehensible displays. The adults around her assured her that everything would be okay, but even at her tender age, she was old enough to know that adults often lied to spare the feelings of children. She saw her brother, Elias, hurt, and possibly about to die. Sally had cried then and did so for hours on end. It took her mother, Queen Alicia, to finally calm her down. Sally`s mother gave her an impromptu lesson on Mobian biology; explaining to a young Sally how her brother Elias wasn't hurt as badly as she thought and how her brother would be nursed to health.

I remember that childhood event as clearly as she did. I remembered as though I was there, a silent observer behind her eyes. I had to make a conscious effort to remind myself that, in spite of all I knew, Alicia was never my mother any more than Elias was my brother. It's a difficult thought to stomach. The pain and anguish I felt left me curled up on the bottom of Sally's bathroom floor, but my present experience was nothing like the way Sally had felt in that hospital room.

It was at once both more personal and impersonal. I felt intense self-loathing for the hurt I had inflicted on Tails, but it felt much different than what Sally would have felt. I felt like I had hurt an acquaintance, someone whom I barely knew at all, and that distant feeling. That distance from Sally's personal relationship with Tails was what felt the worst; I felt that I was betraying that memory, that feeling. I knew that it was because I was not who I should be. I was coming apart, Sally would have dealt with guilt much better. She would have gone into a neurotic breakdown, but after that, she would have tried to make amends. She would have bribed Tails with all the sticky treats he could wolf down his throat and all the toys she could scavenge. Hugs would be given and all would be alright.

I started at the mosaic arrangement of glass on the floor which caught Sally's haunted expression.

Was I possessed? Was I going crazy? I looked for a sign, some indicator to confirm or refute my speculation. There was nothing visible on my face of course. At least, nothing that I could observe, nor has there been any thus far. As far as I know, I was here one day and one day Sally wasn't. "I'm not who I should be," I told my reflection after a pregnant pause. I stared expectantly, almost as though I were expecting an actual response. "But if I'm not who I should be, then who am I?".

As mentioned before, I still don't have an answer, but that was the moment where I had to make a few decisions. The first of many that let me to this moment. Firstly, I resolved to discover just what sort of person I am, and what my true origins were. Secondly, I swore to do everything within my power to locate the true Sally Acorn; although I prioritized the former over the latter. Lastly, I resolved to keep the truth hidden from all of her friends for as long as I could. I think I'm acting rationally. I'm doing my best to figure everything out and leave open the possibility for her return.

Maybe everything would have been a lot easier if I told them about what happened. No, that would have been a foolish idea; no one would have believed me. At best, they would think their leader had snapped from the strain and they would scrutinize me closely. At worst, I would wind up being locked away in a padded cell for the foreseeable future.

Facing me was the monumental task of figuring out what to do next. In spite of my lack of physical activity, I was exhausted. My arms hung limply on my sides like wet ropes and I was panting like a dog. So, returning to the warm embrace of my bed was definitely an option.

However, my stomach growled to remind me I had not eaten in over a day. I could see if there were any leftovers, or I could deal with my hunger in the morning, but I didn't want a late-night snack and I didn't want to procrastinate on my personal resolutions all the way into tomorrow. I had to get NICOLE fixed, get some answers and hopefully find some hot food, but not necessarily in that order. So, I set off to find Rotor, Knothole's resident handyman. If anyone knew how to fix NICOLE, and be discrete, it had to be him. Hopefully, he would still be up at this hour.

Knothole stood silent, in sharp contrast to the hubbub of the day. Songbirds whose melodious twitting had carried far and wide into the crisp air while tendrils of daylight had swept through their homes were now safely sequestered away in their nests, away from prying eyes. The sole exception was the nocturnal night owls who prowled the night skies, their long, cruel and wickedly sharp talons bringing sudden death to the mice scurrying below their domain.

On the ground, more minuscule forms of life roamed about. Countless hordes of ants swept through the forest floor, searching for the smallest morsel of food; their forms illuminated by fireflies whose natural bioluminescence had in less enlightened times been mistaken for the will-o'-the-wisp; the tricksters of legend meant to tempt children into wandering the Great Forests un-chaperoned.

Eventually, I dragged myself to the riverside outside my home, propping my elbows on the wooden rail overlooking a softly bubbling brook, a small part of the river which ran beneath the bridge, serving as the sole natural barrier between Knothole and the wild expanses beyond.

Mesmerized by the way the light reflected off the surface, I gaze upwards. Observing the clear expanse of stars which shimmered like an array of polished and cut diamonds arrayed across the sky. It was almost as though the treasury of heaven had been mischievously torn asunder by a sun deity, affording mere mortals a glimpse at the magnificence of the heavens.

I found my mind wandering as Sally would often do in moments of quiet solitude. Whenever she found herself not being tickled pink by Antoine's ongoing aggrandizing efforts; Listening with rapt attention as Rotor Walrus explained his latest invention or tweaks to improve the livelihoods of the people under her care; Butting her head figuratively with that of the self-proclaimed hero of Mobius; Basking in the innocent and affectionate personality of Tails as he talked in excitement of how he would one day be every bit a hero of his idolized older brother… Tails… I sniffed at the thought.

Had the audible growl from my belly not reminded me of my far more pressing quest for fuel, I would almost certainly have lingered there, wallowing in self-pity.

Now the next bit is probably either boring or painful to listen to, so I'll go through it quickly as I can before... no wait someone is coming. I've got to go. I'll be back as soon as I can.


	4. New Experiences

**New Experiences**

Knothole was a disquieting place at night. During the day, Buzz bombers flitted endlessly through the canopy of the Great Forest, scouring for any pockets of resistance. Never far behind, were the dreaded Hover Swat patrols. Always ready to disgorge a platoon of the dreaded SWATbots at a moment's notice. Many a Mobian had met the business-end of a stun blast before being dragged off as unwilling captives.

No open fire or exposed electrical light was safe. Doubly so at night, when any flicker of light would stick out like a sore thumb against the darkness of the Great Forest. Consequently, every attempt was made to avoid giving away the settlement to aerial observation. Hot food was only prepared at the communal mess hall and each hut was provided with heavy curtains to mask indoor lighting. Consequently, the mostly diurnal Freedom Fighters slept safe and secure within their beds, getting ready to meet the challenges that greeted them at dawn. The few nocturnal residents of Knothole usually choose to remain securely within their homes.

Lack of a nightlife also meant a distinct lack of hot food to be had anywhere. Except Sally knew that Rotor often had to skip meals owing to his workshop duties. If anyone, could put together an electric cooker it would be the handy Walrus. Rotor's usual food would be a problem though. His diet was usually rather often off-putting to most of Knothole's residents. I didn't care. All I cared about was some actual hot food. Hobbling over to Rotor's workshop, I had to be careful not to alert the night patrols. With any luck, I would avoid any pointed questioning which would surely delay my epic quest.

Eventually, I arrived without incident at Rotor's workshop. The frosted windows were dimly lit and the faint beat of music could be heard leaking from a crack in the door where the walrus was surely still hard at work. Gently, I opened the door. Loud music instantly assaulted my sensitive ears. A raucous country ditty filled with fiddles and banjos came from a battered jukebox. It reminded me of similar music at a western-themed birthday party. Just how old had Sally been when cowboy classics from Downunda were in fashion? Five or Six?

Bright yellow light spilt forth and I blinked bleary-eyed, allowing my eyes time to adjust. Obviously, Sally had been in Rotor's realm, his workshop. But to me, even with the benefit of her memories. It was a sight to behold. Plastered all over the walls were photographs of Rotor's family from Artika, posters from Mobotropolis from before the coup and awards attesting to the walrus's mechanical talent. Such was the density of decorations that there were virtually no places where the original wood of the workshop could be seen.

Taking a sniff, I could pick up the tang of sweat, smoke, engine grease and oil. The floor, machines, and tools were all saturated in it. I took a deep breath, tasting the air and soaking in the surprisingly earthly atmosphere of the place. All around were shelves upon shelves of various odds and ends salvaged from various landfills. While scattered haphazardly amid the walrus's workshop were tools of all shapes and sizes including screwdrivers, lathes, milling machines and spanners. If such a set-up had been established during the days of King Acorn, it would almost certainly have been shut down for dozens of safety violations. Unfortunately, Knothole simply didn't have such a luxury as Rotor was the sole supplier for 'new' and refurbished parts.

Buried amid the mosaic arrangement of junk, my eyes fall upon something that sent a shiver up my spine. The prototype De-Roboticizer complete with a Plexiglas restraint large and strong enough to contain an unwilling, thrashing robian. The very same used to contain Sir Charles roboticized form as he pounded futilely on his glass prison. However, without working knowledge of the original Roboticizer Rotor's invention was only capable of reversing the effects temporarily and Sir Charles quickly reverted to his former robotic self. An affair which had nearly resulted in the capture of Antoine and Tails when his original programming briefly took hold.

As I limped my way through Rotor's workshop, avoiding getting any loose bits of fur or clothing getting caught on the exposed machinery. I came across the walrus himself, who was hard at work as usual. He hunched over his work table, a thick welding mask haphazardly strapped to his face while he handled a welding torch with a surprising level of dexterity for his awkwardly shaped hands, dissecting the remains of a SWATbot's head with his impeccable skills. "Sally," Rotor said, shaking me out of my reverie.

Rotor lifted the welding mask from his face to reveal his usual easy-going expression "Is something wrong? Why are you up so late?" Rotor asked, concerned about my unannounced arrival.

I shook my head profusely. "I'm hungry. Any leftovers?" I asked.

"Err well, nothing that would really interest a princess" he began, but I interrupted.

"Surprise me"

Rotor obliged, reaching into what resembled a waffle-iron before bringing out a still steaming plate of fish. Briefly, I noted how Rotor was preparing my meal after wiping his hands slick with grease over his equally filthy fur. I ought to feel repulsed given how obsessive Sally was over cleanliness. "Just hand me some ketchup" I added as Rotor moved to prepare my meal.

"I feel sorry to bring it up, but I heard what happened to Tails," Rotor mentioned, shooting me a sympathetic look. "Think he'll be okay?"

"He'll be fine" I interrupted, it was an automatic response. The same I had given to every one of my scores of sympathetic busybody visitors.

''Yeah heard about that" Rotor said, before presenting me with a steaming pile of fish. I noted that in spite of a generous slathering of ketchup, my meal was still staring back with cold glassy eyes. He must have noticed my unease, as he attempted to retrieve it before I stopped him and started eating with my bare hands, trying hard not to think about the taste as I gulped down my slimy meal.

Sally was normally a very dainty eater. If Rotor had noticed my strange behaviour he made no mention of it. Instead, he pulled up a stool and sat next to me. "What happened back there?" Rotor asked.

"I wished I knew" I mumbled, trying hard not to make eye contact with the sympathetic walrus.

"Look," Rotor intervened "I can see you're in real need of liquid comfort. I know you don't really like to drink, but with a day like that, I take it you really need it".

He was right. Sally normally found the taste of alcohol repulsive. I wondered if I myself would enjoy it. We shared the same body so logically our tastes should remain the same. But how would I know unless I explored? Not being Sally and when presented with the opportunity to get plastered on her behalf, I took it. "I'm not interested in talking, just recommend me something that will wipe away my trouble

Yes, I was trying to get drunk Sally had gotten herself drunk once, but not me. I wanted to experience it for myself. I admit there was a divide between us but I had decided to explore how deep it ran. Would these differences include alcohol tolerance? I wouldn't know till I tried.

While waiting, I devoured the remainder of my meal. Finishing just in time for Rotor to return with a chipped mug. Sloshing about was a thick viscous liquid which smelled vaguely like turpentine. The walrus's expression seemed uncertain, perhaps reconsidering his earlier offer. I wasn't interested in continuing the conversation with him however and seized the drink, taking my first mouthful.

I nearly gagged.

It felt like drinking congealed motor oil. It was strong. Strong and disgusting, cold to the tongue, but burning all my way to my stomach. The aftertaste coated my mouth, lingering well after a more conscientious flavour would have politely faded away. Instead of guiding me, it tried instead to bludgeon me into inebriation. It hurt to drink. Almost immediately, I recognized a familiar warmth hitting my belly and spreading at a prodigious rate. I wasn't exactly drunk yet, a couple of sips ought not to get me even to the warm glowing stage of inebriation, even with next to nothing in my belly. Which is why I gulped down the entire cup of moonshine and asked for more.

Now, there are certain advantages to getting drunk on my first night alive. Alcohol peels away inhibitions, blending together reason, logic, emotions, and desires. Until eventually, the most absurd notions will make perfect sense. After two mugs of whatever Rotor had brought me I was willing to indulge in social interaction once again.

If I were to go through this day all over again I would gladly have done this with Rotor, except I would aim the table away from Tails of course but then I would go drinking. I took a snip from a different batch. This time tasting more like cherry cough syrup with nowhere near the kick of the first two. I suspected Rotor had watered down this down but could still taste the alcohol. So, Rotor wasn't willing to totally cut me off.

"You might want to lay off Sally, you shouldn't be drinking all this much, especially since you're not used to it" Rotor cautioned, confirming my earlier theory.

I beamed at him. "Well, a friend once told me that's future me problem".

I found out a lot about myself. I found myself lacking Sally's usual anxieties and I don't deny that some of my newfound self-confidence was the moonshine speaking through me. But I feel a lot more than Sally does generally. Both the good and the bad. Sally's visible emotional range was far more limited. She thought of herself as a leader with a strong sense of justice first and foremost, tempered by a warm heart. Her own fun-loving and playful personality was subordinate to this fact.

Our reactions to stimuli too were different, Sally was much more controlled. It took a lot to shake her out of her default strong-minded and logical state. I, on the other hand, was much more uninhibited, feeling and expressing the full range of emotions which Sally regularly repressed.

The rest of the night blurred together. I vaguely recalled mentioning NICOLE to Rotor in my inebriated state. Which he had promised to look at in the morning, no questions asked. When I woke up the next day I was back in my own bed. The day was dedicated to resting in bed and performing research.

I collected together some of Sally's old textbooks and even managed to procure some of Doctor Quack's medical journals. The Doctor, in particular, was difficult. He didn't seem to hold a grudge from before which made me uncomfortable. Sometimes, he even seemed to know me better than I knew myself. But I was adamant in my attempts to procure some of his extensive collection.

Finally, free of all distractions, I set about reviewing the sizeable collection littering the floor; several dozen thick textbooks in medical science, advanced mathematics and psychology littered. I found myself sharing Sally's penchant for books. Savouring their sweet lingering musk, I pried them open to study the contents within. Thankfully, I had managed to inherit Sally's natural intelligence and knowledge. While my studies proved to be enlightening, it had succeeded in raising as many questions as were answered.

As it turns out, the Mobian mind was a complex thing with numerous potential mental conditions. The most likely of these being an undiagnosed personality disorder. One that came to the forefront and took control. While this theory had merit, there was a lot of contradictions between this theory and reality.

I am relieved in that sense because I genuinely did not want to believe I had gone mad because of some pathetic reason like being unable to handle life. Unable to handle the soul-crushing possibility that someday Knothole, like everywhere else on Mobius would be crushed under an endless sea of SWATbots. Knowing there was an appointment number with my name on it on the Roboticizer. It's still a remote possibility I admit, Sally and I share many things. But I'm still not convinced we're the same Mobian deep down.

The second more disturbing possibility was that I was some sort of robotic infiltrator. I knew Robotnik had tried this before in the form of his 'Auto Automaton' robot infiltrators. But his attempted duplication of the princess along with other renowned members of the Freedom Fighters was crude and easily identifiable. I know I'm not a robot. Besides if I were such a thing surely Knothole would already be compromised, and the memories? Robotnik was good, but not good enough to entirely copy or recreate the memories of a living breathing being. But I admit it, this idea does frighten me. The idea that a doppelganger could somehow absorb your entire life experiences.

The third possibility? I was the result of something done to Sally. An exotic toxin perhaps? There existed in the Great Forest plants capable of producing toxins and poisons which when ingested caused disassociation and radical personality shifts. Although just what maverick motive someone would have for such an endeavour was beyond my grasp of logic.

It could well be a spell. However, the last magician of the Order of Ixis, Ixis Naugus had disappeared long before the coup when Sally was just a child. Furthermore, magic was highly noticeable, especially since they tended to degrade without constant maintenance.

I don't think there was some sort of supernatural explanation for much the same reasons. Overly mundane causes are … problematic to say the least.

Diving further into what esoteric sources were available, there were certainly more exotic possibilities. Near the bottom of the list of likely causes was inter-dimensional soul exchange. There was just something infatuating about multi-universal theories and it's the one I wanted most. However, that explanation is a non-application. It could be there are no reasons for all this, no rationale as to why I popped into existence one day and Sally winked out for greener pastures.

Now, this theory has some advantages. It has the advantage of being irreversible. It means I am here to stay, permanently. It means I don't want to have to worry about my fellows deciding they wanted the real Sally Acorn back. Of course, this might mean my existence was predicated on the murder of another. Do you think I want this? No, I don't. But if my continued existence depends upon her demise? I would always choose me first. I know this.

As I said I don't have an answer, perhaps it's all pointless conjecture. A pathetic attempt to justify something that may not be true. But as much as I wanted to explore other possibilities, sequester myself away for a few days for studies. I couldn't. Not only because Knothole couldn't afford the luxury of giving their strategist and leader time-off. But also, because I was about to face a whole host of problems with Sally's friends. They needed answers and I don't have all of them


	5. Trial By Fire

**Trial by Fire**

I was just finishing up a list of notes for my condition, making sure to leave room for additional avenues of studies. Naturally, I made sure to stow everything incriminating neatly away beneath a loose floorboard. I had to be careful, nasty rumours could spread like wildfire.

Anyway, as I was jotting down a few last -minute ideas which might be important later when there was a knock on the door. As I had been doing most of the day, I ignored it. Geoffrey St. John, my aide-de-camp having largely assumed the burden of day-to-day duties.

The knock wasn't as insistent as some of the petitioners had been who had been seeking to bother me for one trivial reason after another. It was loud, solid but somehow had a certain quality. The Mobian knocking was absolutely certain the door would open for them. I should have recognized it right away, but … I wasn't really paying attention; too focused on examining texts that only had extremely tangential relationship to my predicament.

"Sal, need to talk."

Yes, I recognized the voice. How could I not? Ever since she was a child, she had pined after an affectionate word spoken by that voice. By so many standards of rights, I should not appreciate him the same way she does. Sonic had many admirable traits -, his bravado, his free-spirited and adventurous nature. Equally though, he could be impulsive, reckless, and quick to act without thinking.

When Sonic wants in, he gets in. He heard me of course as I shifted in surprise amid my piles of books. It's not so strange when I found myself freezing up in indecision and fear. I'm an interloper. A foreign entity that has assumed the life of his congenial partner without so much as asking.

Heh. Sally and I shared a lot of similarities. Why shouldn't we? We shared everything up to the moment when I took over. I may pick as obsessively as a seamstress at the threads of our differences. But the truth is, we're a lot more similar than not. One of the many things that we share is how we react to Sonic. When Sally's with him, she stops worrying. The static noise poisoning her mind is muted. When he holds her, she feels safe and loved. Both special and mundane. She feels safe, like everything is unthreatening as long as he is there to shield the world from her. I don't have the right word to describe it - flustered. It fits, but it loses something in conveyancing.

At times, Sally broke away from the rest of her people to a private rendezvous by the 'Ring Pool'. It was so selfish, irresponsible and deplorable. She had resisted the urge at first. But she knew for a substantial portion of her terrible, busy schedule she could escape with him - I could escape. Be with Sonic into a world where we only answer to ourselves.

The thing is, I don't know if I really did care for him the way she does. That was the issue. I had to keep my condition a secret from everyone including Sally's closest friends and I was determined to hold to that resolution no matter what. Even while maintaining the self-contradictory one of maintaining my own identity.

So, I put on my best Sally- esque smile and stepped before him. "Oh my, I didn't know you were coming, please excuse the mess. Just doing some planning."

To my surprise, Sonic doesn't reply. Rather, he sheepishly stands aside to reveal the form of Geoffrey St. John. His arms were crossed, unreadable as he regarded me curiously. "Princess, you are required to conduct a court hearing." For a moment there, my blood ran ice cold. My breathing quickened.

"… For the hearing of Antoine D'Coolette," Geoffrey added, snapping me out of my inner turmoil.

For a fraction of a second, the corners of my mouth started to twitch upwards. A titter threatened to erupt from my larynx. Luckily, my conscious mind reasserted control. In an instant, my face was drawn tighter than on poker nights, straight and tight.

"Well, princess?" Geoffrey asked expectantly.

"I'm sorry what were the charges?" I asked, mouth pursed but slightly open and loose.

"Insubordination, princess. Absence without leave from duty post. Dereliction of duty," Geoffrey reiterated without a hint of frustration in his tone.

What a crazy topsy-turvy world it would be for Antoine to be insubordinate. Whatever his misgivings, the coyote could be counted on to perform his duties. "That can't be right. Are you sure we're discussing the same Antoine?" I asked, stroking my chin thoughtfully.

Geoffrey stepped backwards with a respectful bow. "Yes princess, there was no mistake. Antoine had abandoned his guard post. And you know as well as I the potential consequences of letting Knothole go unguarded." With a toss of his head, he continued "Believe me, it brings me no pleasure to bring this onto someone who I consider to be a friend. But we'll have to conduct a tribunal and your presence is required. The trial will begin within the hour." Turning towards Sonic, he added almost as an afterthought, "As for this one, he was absent after curfew hours without due cause, as he is under you. I believe you should see to his punishment."

Sonic scowled at the skunk whom never met his challenge as he strode confidently away. "Sal, why ya let stinky-breath over here get his power-trip is beyond me. He's really let it go straight to his noggin," Sonic complained while stamping the ground, much like a perturbed child.

But there he stopped, for at a speed and ferocity which would have impressed were he not in the line of fire, I swung to face him. Shot by a look so swift, venomous and threatening, the recalcitrant hedgehog's prattle seemed caught in his throat. He fell silent, ready to be engulfed by a deluge of verbal spew as I pointed an accusatory finger an inch from his nose. "Don't change the subject," I lashed. "We're lucky when Robotnik was more complacent. But now that he's wizened up to our tricks, we need to get better organized."

"Don't cha think I know? Yeah, I was at that meeting too when I agreed we needed ta have more Freedom Fighters to battle ole Lardnik. I just didn't agree that bad-egg should be the one doin it," the hedgehog complained. I maintained my glare, having no desire to be sucked into a metaphorical quagmire. Instead, I changed tracks.

"So, you skipped out yesterday because?"

"Look, Sal, I lost track of time when I was in Buttnik's lair," Sonic explained lamely, his shoulders slumping to his side.

Even if I didn't already know there were no missions scheduled yesterday, Sonic wouldn't have fooled me. Sally and I shared an intimate understanding of the hedgehog's seemingly bottomless pit of impertinence and impudence. Before my steely gaze, he shifted about awkwardly, pawing the ground with his red sneakers. Noting the awkward silence, Sonic corrected himself. "Look Sal I'm gonna be honest with ya. Spent the night moonlighting over with Uncle Chuck, there guilty as charged."

He looked downcast, as though he had more to say. I set my jaw and squared my shoulders back. And at once I transformed from an ordinary Mobian to the stoic form of Princess Sally Acorn. When I spoke next, my steady and level voice managed to reflect her dignified maturity even as I manifested irritated annoyance. "You've got to be the most irresponsible and thoughtless person I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," I snapped coldly and severely.

"Sal, Sal, Sal! Don't cha start with those big words ya know I'm way past cool to understand!" Sonic held out his hands in a placating manner and spoke soothingly as if faced with a hysterical female.

Inwardly I seethed. How dare he insinuate that I'm the unreasonable one. Taking a deep breath, I let loose a sigh of total exasperation. "Look Sonic, you know better than to behave in such a manner. I don't have time to deal with you gallivanting around Mobius, doing ... whatever it is you do. Your home, your world is here. Not having chilidogs with Sir Charles."

But asking the hyperactive hedgehog to stand still and reflect upon his actions was like trying to tell a fire not to burn. "Look Sal," he began running his hands through the quills at the back of his head. "It wasn't for personal reasons … not entirely anyway. Uncle Chuck has been figuring out some of Buttnik's plans and it sounds like mondo bad news," Sonic described animatedly.

"When has that ever stopped us," I asked curiously, losing some of my accumulated agitations.

"Robotnik is calling it his Doomsday Project. Look it's not something we can fight. Not according to what Uncle Chuck has been able to gather." I raised my eyebrows, surprised at the hedgehog's uncharacteristically cryptic answer.

"I don't know all the details. So, I don't wanna blab to everyone. But he was working on recreating a project from before Ole Buttnik's takeover. A pocket dimension thingamajig."

"A pocket what?" I stuttered my face awash with confusion, almost like my brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to process the Delphic information from my disbelieving ears.

"It's like a new home," he elaborated. "In case something bad were to happen. I trust my Uncle. If something concerns him like this, we should definitely consider it."

It sounded incredible. Fantastic and out of the world. But then again it was Sir Charles the hedgehog. One of the greatest minds of his days and age. A new land where Robotnik would only exist in slowly fading memories? Certainly, it might have been something Sally would have pondered over more carefully. But running away? Those were not words in my vocabulary. Taking a moment to compose myself I folded my arms over Sally's signature blue vest. A gift from her long-deceased mentor Julayla. When I spoke next, I did so with authority reflecting maturity despite the hedgehog's galling behaviour.

"Knothole is our home. We can't just uproot ourselves as we fancy. In any case, there was only ever one device ever built in all of Mobius. The old Ministry of Science building; Robotnik's citadel." I shook my head in disbelief, carefully considering my choice of words. "I don't want anyone else hearing about this until I can get an audience with Sir Charles."

"Sal, I think this is an issue for everyone to decide," Sonic protested. "That's why my Uncle asked me ta ask you. Get the ball rollin."

I raised my hand to interrupt. "It would have been much easier had our community been smaller. Knothole's not perfect. But it's our home and I intended to keep things that way."

"I knew I shouldn't have brought this up but he made me promise. Here's the thing Sal this is big. Too big for my uncle on his own. That's why he needs our help to chip in for labour, parts and materials."

My head throbbed like a toothache as I shook my head hard enough to leave a crick in the neck. "My answer is still no. I can't commit resources to this project until I get the opportunity to speak to Sir Charles personally. But first, I have a meeting to attend…"

Word spreads fast. Especially so in our tight-knit community. By the time we had reached the meeting hall, a small crowd was already gathered in the meeting hall to observe proceedings. Luckily, most were too intensely focused on recent happenings to bother me about Tails. Contrary to popular belief, life in a Freedom Fighter camp is mostly tedium and mind-numbingly dull work, punctuated by occasional moments of pure unbridled terror. To have two events unfolding in the same number of days was truly out-of-the-ordinary. Enough to warrant Knothole's residents taking time-off to observe proceedings.

The name of the Meeting Hall was itself a bit of a misnomer as it sat over a bridge spanning the river which ran through our dwelling. Where it departed from being purpose-built was the fact that four wooden pillars carved into matching shapes had not only been made to support the thatched roof but to make it completely open to the outside air. Thus, ensuring that public discussions and meetings were always accompanied by fresh, crisp air, the sweet melodious susurration of water, and the mellifluous sounds of nature. In sharp contrast to the peaceful surrounding was the assembled crowd. None, it seemed, were allowed to sit. Everyone stood upright in loose clumps. The sole exception was Hershey Cat, who sat on an overturned crate and was responsible for transcribing proceedings into a logbook.

Antoine sat indignantly in the center, occasionally stealing murderous glances at his prosecutor and fidgeting with his Freedom Fighter uniform. Several tense minutes of silence passed before Geoffrey spoke, both to Antoine and the assembled crowd for their benefit. "Discipline and order," Geoffrey said. "Sensibility and reason. There's a place for everything and everything in its place. Sentimentality was the way of the past, but discipline is the way of the future. Before we wandered hither and yonder. But from now on, we shall walk the narrow path, guided by logic. Thus far, Antoine's transgressions; including falling asleep while on duty have been tolerated. Today, he was found absent from his post by the relieving guard." Geoffrey stared at the defendant.

Though his stare wasn't intentionally cold, Geoffrey's face somehow seemed to lack for mobility. His eyes tended to rest disconcertingly long on a point, forcing others to alter their direction so as not to cross paths with his withering gaze. "What have you to say in your defence? "Geoffrey paused his monologue, awaiting any response until Antoine, his voice shrill, much like an angry child shouted.

"Ta gueule!" (Shut up!)

"This is not your decision to make. The needs of the community outweigh those of your selfish personal desires," Geoffrey dictated, his voice rising slightly.

"Moi Mademoiselle was feeling under the weather," Antoine elaborated before being cut-off with a curt wave of the hand by his accuser. "You are confined to your quarters until further notice," Geoffrey added with his eyes narrowed, the type a warden would use on the prisoners he guarded, a hateful disdain.

"I don't have a quarter, I have a home and I come and go as I please," Antoine snapped.

"Antoine as your commanding officer …" Geoffrey added in an officious tone.

"You're not my boss," Antoine growled, an uncharacteristic gesture for his timid personality.

"Insolence, insubordination. You'll find that I am in fact the boss of you. ." Geoffrey spat, looking over his shoulder at me where I stared wide-eyed, reaching a hand to lightly clasp my throat at the unexpected turn of events. "The guilty verdict is clear, we must conduct sentencing now," he stated coldly.".

Though I was not the one on the firing line. I broke into a sweat. My heart pounded, and my hand began to feel clammy against my clenching throat. My knee started bouncing uncontrollably as I wished for a dark place to crawl into. Anywhere, to avoid passing judgement on a friend.

Sensing my hesitation, Geoffrey continued. "You wish the Freedom Fighters to be an army, a tool at your disposal to battle Robotnik do you not? We must be a military unit, princess. A military requires a commander, it requires rules. It also requires strict enforcement of the rules. Am I the commander of the Knothole Freedom Fighters?" Geoffrey asked rhetorically.

"You are, but …"

"Then, I have the full authority as commander, including the rights to enforce discipline," he interrupted.

"Maybe, you will be willing to talk it out," I interjected.

"What would the purpose be of interlocution with someone who will neither see nor hear reason?"

"This doesn't sound like the Antoine I know," I rationalised. "Perhaps if we tried finding out why-"

"I can tell you why my princess," Geoffrey spoke with uncharacteristic venom though this was not directed at me. "Antoine is subservient to his passions. He views them above the needs of the community. Instead of mastering his passions, he is ruled by them." Geoffrey paused his tirade to let his eyes wash over the assembled crowd. "Well, if pain and pleasure are all that can move him. I shall take away his pleasure and give him pain. I shall rule him. If he shall not rule himself," Geoffrey stated smug and secure with his judgements.

Sonic stood straight, breathing hard through his nose while clenching his teeth. "Why the nerve of that skunk," he vented. And looking over to the assembled crowd, I was surprised to see many of the rescuees following suit. "You can't do this," he said.

"I can and I shall, Maurice," Geoffrey answered. "Bunnie's team may conduct themselves however they see fit. But the Freedom Fighters are now warriors, and warriors cannot afford to be democratic." Turning to face me almost as an afterthought Geoffrey added, "Are there any objections to the sentencing, my princess?" I was stunned into silence and nervously stuffed my hands into my vest pockets, pondering my next response before Geoffrey's expecting stare.

Before I had a chance to protest. Bunnie seeming rather pale and wobbling unsteadily on her metallic limbs was the first to speak up in defence of the coyote. "Geoffrey, surely there should be some rules written-up first. Ya can't just hand out punishment willy-nilly." at her impassioned stance, there was a murmur from the crowd voicing support.

"You've no say on the matter."

"But-"

"You know ever since my parents, loyal members of the Acorn kingdom's secret service fell in service of the King, I've always sought to uphold the values they venerated. Chief among which is vigilance and the protection of the community." Geoffrey retorted. "Do you believe my decisions to discipline those who neglect the safety of the community to be unjust?"

Bunnie hesitated., "He was merely trying to help," she said, before breaking into a fit of coughs.

Then, a grey rabbit stepped forward from among the crowd who I recognized as Johnny Lightfoot, one of the more recent rescuees. "I agree with Bunnie. We must have rules and proceedings. Not arbitrary punishment and the tyranny of dictators."

Geoffrey stiffened at the insinuations. Mustering every ounce of self-control before he composed himself and took the plunge. "You are under me. You cannot question my authority. Sit down."

"I was rescued from the clutches of Robotnik by Sonic and his comrades. I've seen what Robotnik does to our fellows. I have seen first-hand what it's like to be a slave. I do not wish to see anyone else experiencing that fate," Johnny uttered with a burst of courage to the seething skunk.

"More insubordination?" Geoffrey cried indignantly. "Is it not enough that I must make an example of one of you. Must all question my authority? Johnny, you too shall be confined for two weeks."

Johnny gasped before slinking back down to the crowd ashen-faced.

Geoffrey stared into space for a moment deep in thought apparently considering his next words carefully. "We have an old Tree Fort some ways outside the village. There is an old cellar there that we sometimes use for storage. We shall place both Antoine and Johnny within its confines with adequate food and water until their sentencing has run its course."

"No, please. Anything but that. Please!" Johnny exclaimed.

"You should've considered the repercussions of your actions before you uttered insolence to your commanding officer," Geoffrey growled.

"That's enough Geoffrey. Ah say let anyone who has seen first-hand Robotnik's tyranny. Anyone who values freedom ta come to me. Without anyone on his side, Geoffrey won't have his army," Bunnie announced. At once, a majority of the crowd rallied around Bunnie. Everyone, who had witnessed first-hand the horrors of Robotropolis. Then, much more hesitantly even Hershey dropped her pen and slunk over to Bunnie's side. Geoffrey visibly cringed with displeasure before taking a long drawn out breath.

"It's a coup isn't it?" Geoffrey asked. "A mutiny within my ranks inspired by the leader of a rival group. Taking away my people for use in your shrivelled patches. It's been years Bunnie, yet you can't manage to feed everyone. Can you?" Geoffrey exploded.

Sally knew the country-girl well. , To Bunnie, her small vegetable plots were her brainchild. Through much trial and error, she had managed to grow a wide array of crops - including melons, squash, beans, and rhubarb. A welcome supplement to our then diet of canned produce. A sure way to incur her ire would be to mention her 'children' in a less than flattering light. I could read her face. The way her ears lay flat against her head and her mouth tightened. It was the face of an animal ready to bite or kick.

"Ah work hard day and night to grow food for everyone here. Including you, yer good fer nothing ingrate. Ah chase the darn birds away and varmint away." Bunnie paused, clearly out of breath before continuing. "Ya know perfectly well why ah can't on account of the fact we can't clear anything substantial to make room," Bunnie shouted before trembling slightly. Her teeth were tightly gritted together in an attempt to remain silent. Her hunched form exuding an acid-like animosity.

The real Sally would have seen the warning signs and intervened. "Stop it!" I shouted, stepping between Bunnie and Geoffrey. "We're friends. We're getting better organised so we can work together, not fight it out. I think that Johnny and Antoine should get a warning. We don't have to punish them provided they can behave themselves"." I dropped a hand onto his neck. "Don't you agree?" I asked.

Geoffrey stood stiffly. Not reacting to my touch. In fact, he was staring past me. I froze, following his gaze till my eyes fell where Bunnie lay unconscious in a heap.


	6. Slippage

**Slippage**

It took a long time before I could will the courage necessary to step inside the clinic.

At times, I observed the visiting crowd. Other times, I gazed at the slightly discoloured patch job on the ceiling. Evidently, the Doctor didn't like the skylight Dulcy had created in her little escapade.

Eventually, I managed to force myself into the room. When I did, Tails was awake, wrapped in a thick body cast. Like a little chubby mummy with twin orange tails sticking out. His recovery sped-up via a set of power rings generously donated by Sonic. He was scratching the edges of his bandages as I came in. When he saw me, his eyes lit up and he smiled the widest, most innocent smile. He's still a child. Not even in the throes of adolescence. But Tails is not a baby. No matter how much Sally wished he could be. His mind developed a lot faster than his body, giving him a level of maturity unbecoming of his physical age. That makes it so easy to forget that for all of that, he's still a child. Tails looked at me with that childish innocence.

There was no anger there, no recrimination. He didn't blame her. He didn't blame me. Something seizes up within me. It's my heart pressing against my chest. I lurch forward, giving in to instinct and impulse. My lithe arms gently encircle the kit. I pressed him as tightly to my bosom as I dared. As I did so, I could feel the sobs beginning. The two of us didn't end that tight embrace, or move apart, for a very long time. I'm okay now. It's just... things only get worse from here.

Usually, I maintain that my actions were justified. But out of everything I have done, everything I have witnessed first-hand, this is still what gets to me. Tails didn't deserve what happened to him and he certainly didn't deserve it being done by the person he trusted the most. Tails... he really deserves better. He'll understand that, someday. Maybe...

When I had calmed down, we actually managed to have a conversation. In spite of his injuries and being under a heavy dose of painkillers. His eyes were bright and he was extremely articulate. He asked about Aunt Bunnie. I explained as calmly as I could that she had overexerted. Of course, I knew this wasn't exactly true.

Tails combed my unkempt hair with his one good hand and tried to make me feel better. The kit in the body cast was trying to make the adult feel better. How's that for irony, Huh? I apologized profusely of course, but he had waved it all away. He said that if I didn't know exactly why it happened, then I should probably find out. I thanked him. Maybe, he knew. Maybe he knew what Aunt Bunnie was really going through. What I was going through.

By the little light remaining of the day, I conducted Tails nightly readings. I flipped through Sally's creased and smudged copy of Gulliver's Travels, a book her father had given her when she was six. On the front cover, he had written, "Daddy loves you," followed by his name. That was exactly why, five years ago, Sally had ripped the front cover off.

I settled onto Tails' bed. Having flinched a bottle of cider from the mini fridge to quench my parched throat, I read to Tails the chapters depicting the titular character's time in the fictional land of the horse-like Houyhnhnms. Reading it made me think that perhaps the author had discovered traces of our distant ancestors on that remote isle. In particular, I marvelled at his depiction of a society that valued friendship and benevolence and his descriptions of the clever ways in which they used their pasterns as though they were hands.

Having finished the chapter, I gazed over at Tails. By now, his eyelids were securely closed against the evening light. All the muscles in his face and body were totally at peace. Not a twitch, not a spasm, barely any movement save the steady rising and falling of his chest with each intake of air. Leaning over him, I planted the usual 'Funny Kiss' square onto his nose and twice on the cheeks for good measure. I felt calmer than I had in my first conscious moments.

Antoine showed up later in the day, exhausted and sweaty. His usually well-maintained uniform covered with creases and buttoned in all the wrong places. He complained bitterly of the skunk's sadistic behaviour: forcing him to dig holes, fill them back in and start over till he keeled over with exhaustion. After regaling his sordid tale, he dragged up an old cot and went to sleep from sheer bodily exhaustion.

Occasionally, I peered over at the partitioning curtain where Doctor Quack was hard at work. Why was it taking so long? Everyone had come and gone. Even Geoffrey who had lingered awhile outside. Abruptly, the corner of the curtain parted, and the exhausted and bleary-eyed Doctor Quack emerged from behind. He leaned against the side of the wall. Apparently collecting his thoughts. This wasn't a good sign. I steeled myself for anything. "I have a prognosis on Ms. Rabbot. Just to be clear, what you're hearing is confidential and kept under wraps between you and I."

"Okay," I chocked out, letting loose a breath of air I didn't know I was holding back.

The clinic was silent. Silent in a way that seemed to gnaw at the insides. It hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. Unnatural, like dawn devoid of birdsong. Doctor Quack broke the silence with a sigh. "To put things simply, princess, Ms. Rabbot's muscles are dying."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"I took muscle samples, running a complete diagnostic for every known condition. The prognosis is clear. As you're aware, Sir Charles's roboticizer was still undergoing clinical trials. Literally so new in fact that its effects had yet to appear even in peer-reviewed journals. It's long-term effects, particularly those of partial roboticization remain largely unexplored." Doctor Quack paused, as though deciding whether to soften his next hammer blows. "In a matter of speaking, her immune system is eating her alive."

I remembered being unable to breathe, unable to speak, left totally stunned as my brain struggled to process the new information. It was as though the impact of the words had knocked every wisp of air from my lungs. "But that's impossible. She had them for years without any trouble and I saw her looking fine just yesterday." I interjected. Surely, in spite of all his credentials and years of medical training, there was a chance the Doctor could make a slip-up, somewhere - my heart sank.

"Yes, if there was a flaw in the Roboticization process we would have found out a long time ago. But maybe, her muscle necrosis was festering for years and has only now reached critical mass. Also, what certainly did not help was that she had concealed her condition from us until recently." Doctor Quack sighed wearily, so quietly that it nearly went unnoticed.

"What are you talking about?" I said quietly.

"Again child, I must stress what you're hearing from me is confidential. But Ms. Rabbot approached me some months ago for irritation around her roboticized limbs. It was my mistake really, should've insisted she remained longer to conduct a more thorough investigation. But she refused. I should have suspected something was amiss. If you would just allow me to show you.". I wanted to look away. But I had to be sure as I silently counting in my head the number of small black spots virtually camouflaged under the unconscious rabbit's fur.

"I don't know how to phrase this gently. Bunnie's immune system is rejecting her roboticized limbs. If we leave them in any longer it will only serve to cause further damage to the rest of her body. And I don't think surgery will do anything either. We can't leave her alone or necrosis will set in and release toxins into her bloodstream. There's only one thing we can do … we have to amputate."

My mind went numb. "No ... you pull off medical miracles all the time. Surely you can save her limbs," I began, upon recovering from the shock.

The waterfowl shook his head. "I can slow it down with a cocktail of immune suppressants. But it's only a stop-gap measure. We'll be in the same position come a week or a fortnight at best."

My mind raced. "What about Robotnik?" I suggested. "One of his arms was roboticized. Surely, he'll have medicine to manage his condition. It'll be risky. But we don't abandon our friends."

"I shouldn't comment on your planning. But I do believe the odds are slim to none that you would make it. Even if you somehow succeeded there's no guarantee it'll be at all compatible with our physiology. Don't you think I hadn't considered other options?"

My head fell, defeated. I felt compelled to cry, the emotional rollercoaster left me drained of energy. "Just give her the cocktail. Buy her some extra time," I croaked out.

"I already did. Believe me, this is not pleasant even for me." Doctor Quack grimaced.

"Now princess, as you promised. Will you allow me to perform your examination?" Doctor Quack asked.

"Since when did I promise that?" I asked, bewildered.

"You promised to co-operate when you came. Besides, this was something Bunnie arranged on her own initiative. If she were well, she would no doubt have accompanied your session."

I frowned, this was manipulation. But he meant well. Perhaps, Doctor Quack with all his knowledge knew something about my condition I didn't. "This is blackmail, Doctor, but fine I'll do it." The waterfowl proceeded to present me with a set of physicals followed by a written psychological test. Which I did without any complaint or protest on my part.

"So, how did I do?" I asked tapping my foot from my growing impatience as the Doctor graded my written test. A bad habit picked-up from the hedgehog.

"I'm still compiling your physical tests but I'm more interested in your psychological results. Did you know your father refused to let me perform this test for you when you were younger? I suspect he was concerned about what he would find. Given your extensive family history of mental instability."

"I'm not mad and I don't see the point of these tests Doctor Quack," I growled as the waterfowl moved about applying all sorts of sensors to my face. "I need to get to work.".

"I would already be working up a psyche profile on you had you been honest with your questionnaire, but now we have to do this test instead," he added, pointing at the sensors plastered on my face.

"What do you mean?"

"Your answers to the written portion were dishonest. You scored as perfectly balanced"

"That just means I am composed of strong mental fortitude,"' I boasted, folding my arms.

"Please don't insult my intelligence. You know as well as I that someone in your position would be maladjusted, traumatized even. Do you know what I think princess?" Doctor Quack asked rhetorically, "I think an intelligent young adult like yourself found a way to game her way through the tests by memorizing the best responses for normalcy."

I sat, mouth agape. What followed was a rather simple test. I was instructed to flip through a book containing a series of pictures. Where I was supposed to 'linger on and contemplate' each picture for a few minutes before passing onto the next. All while Doctor Quack gauged my emotional responses to each picture. These ranged from pictures of fierce dragons to puppies with pleading eyes. I tried to keep my conflicted emotions under wraps while the machine assessed my responses.

When I was done. The doctor's face was unmistakably concerned as he observed the readings. "Something wrong, Doctor?" I asked as the monitoring equipment spewed forth a long list of feedback. Hopefully, I hadn't suffered anything exotic like a stroke, TIA, or a cerebral haemorrhage. The waterfowl's next words, however, would almost make me wish I had.

"You're a sociopath, Sally."

"What?" I asked open-mouth with shock.

"Your emotional responses during the picture tests are consistent with an individual in the middle stages of acquired sociopathy. There are two types of sociopathy, innate and acquired. Innate sociopaths are born that way. However, individuals with acquired sociopathy are typically transformed into sociopaths by their environment. Usually involving some form of prolonged abuse and neglect." Doctor Quack elaborated, shaking his head in disbelief at the revelation.

"I find it hard to believe that something like this could happen. Initially, you showed all the normal signs of an emotionally healthy young girl, with the ability to empathize." He pointed at the machine that was still spewing out streams of paper. "However, something triggered a sociopathic response in you. I won't hazard a guess to say what. I know things are trying as there are."

Hearing the Doctor's condescending tone proved to be the breaking point of my patience. I rose to my feet and left. I vaulted over fences and sprinting over rooftops. Taking every shortcut, I knew. I didn't look back. I didn't respond to the protests of rudely awakened residents. Soon, I heard nothing but the pounding of my feet, and the heavy thumping of my heart. It was such a relief spotting my familiar grey stone chimney, sticking up like a solitary erect ear listening for the rustle of a coming predator. Even more so when I stood before the entrance of my hut, heaving heavily from the strain of shifting from stock-still to a dead-sprint.

The rest of the night was spent trying to figure a way out yet finding none. It all kept coming down to the doctor. Eventually, I had to deal with him one way or another. Killing him and dumping the body was briefly considered. I thought of several dastardly ways to end the Doctor's life. But the idea failed to find traction within my torn psyche. The very notion of pre-meditated murder was revolting, even to my debased standards. No matter how eager I was to get his silence. I wasn't desperate enough to kill. There had to be a more diplomatic solution. But what?

Looking back, I'm amazed I didn't have a mental breakdown. I came close, though. But as philosophy books are fond of pointing out, life prefers balance. Tip too far to one extreme, and there will be a strong corrective action to restore balance. My own corrective force came when I found myself applying deadbolts on my normally unlocked door. Until finally, I found myself barricaded inside my own home.

My mind wandered in loops. I remembered thinking about how I couldn't trust my friends and how I needed to disassociate myself from them. I had heard a few knocks, but I had grown suspicious. What if they were getting ready to teach me a lesson by waiting till I cracked? "Shame on you, imposter," they would tell me when visiting my padded cell. "How could you have murdered the real princess?"

No, I couldn't trust them anymore. I would have to communicate with them through an agent. Someone I could trust to take their messages and give my own in return. That was the point when I cracked. It was as if someone had slapped me on the face. I was going to cut myself off from my friends. The ones who loved me, cared for me, and supported me. It was as if I had come out of a long nightmare. The sun was starting to peak up over the horizon. I looked around my hut and almost didn't recognize it. The normally immaculate room seemingly pulled apart like a storm had ripped through the place. All the locks, braces, barricaded doors, and escape plans. I realized just how many conspiracy theories I had built-up in my paranoia. I realized how it was only a matter of time until I believed that the entire village was after me and suicide was the only way out.

The realization hit me hard. So, I did what most other Mobians would do upon realizing they were guiding themselves to self-destruction: I drank. I went to the cabinet and pulled out the only bottle of moonshine I had from Rotor (extra-strong) and drank it all. Through the burning sensation of alcohol, everything became clear to me. It wasn't Doctor Quack who was driving me to destruction. It was Sally's … my conscience. The answer came to me when the bottle dropped to the floor. There was a way but it didn't involve telling the truth. No way in heck was I going to do that. It was much simpler.

Whenever Sally did something wrong as a child, her parents would make her think about what she had done. They believed that the only way to truly correct a mistake was to find out why you had done it. Solve that, and then realize that continuing to act as you did would only bring more pain.

Getting-up from my matted 'Pillow Fort'. I looked at myself in a cracked fragment of the mirror where it had lain from the night before. Sally's haggard face stared back at me. I wished there was some way of communicating to the real Sally. But her reflection would work just as well in her stead. Her committed gaze followed mine. I had to make an update to my vows. I said that from that day forth, I would never again harm any of Sally's friends to achieve my goals. No threatening, no assaults, nothing. It had taken the clinic fiasco for me to realize how deranged I had gotten. I finished my vow. The lesson had been learned, and I would not repeat the same mistake twice.

Just like that, it was done.


	7. Darkness

**Darkness**

Staying any longer was a mistake. I had to leave. Expand my horizons beyond the narrow confines of my little domain. But first, I had to make amends. Which is why I'm standing outside the clinic with a lavish gift. A bar of chocolate. Sally had been saving it for a special occasion and now was as good an opportunity as any. Doctor Quack stands warily outside. There's a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had come with the full intention of making amends with an impassioned, heartfelt apology. Instead, my nerves failed me. All I could manage was to utter a quick sorry before darting off, leaving him with a small fortune of the barter equivalent.

Sociopath. That's a word that's found its way into my self-reflections more than once, and with increasing intensity. For a time, I entertained the notion, that I was the result of a personality disorder which had robbed Sally of her morality. Of course, it would be such an integral part of her that losing them would make her feel like a completely different person. It could certainly lead to situations like this. Impulsive, reckless decisions, violence at the smallest provocation.

In the end, if only it were so simple. I'm sure I have got a soul of my own. I'm not merely Sally minus something essential. Perhaps, it's simpler to just believe that I'm a sociopath on my own merit. But I don't believe it. More accurately, I don't want to believe it. I still care about others. I still empathize to an extent. Just not in the way she does and… I feel ashamed. I feel regret for the things I've done and what I'm going to do. I don't want to be a bad person… but I don't want to do things exactly the way she would have done things.

I'm struggling to wrap his message around my head. I know for certain I don't want anyone else to know what I'm capable of. If they knew? If they knew half of what I've done since? Monster would be the most pleasant of names that they would call me...It bears some thinking on. I have my regrets. I know neither my decisions nor my judgements are perfect.

Could my self-assessment be just as flawed as my choices? Could my empathy be a vestige of Sally, a veneer of conscience over the sly manipulative creature within? Or am I what I aspire to be: a Mobian like any other in trying circumstances, making mistakes, but trying to do the best she can nonetheless? It could be. I still can't say. I guess it'll be up to you to decide. I don't expect exoneration, but I hope my judgement if … when it comes will at least be fair.

With the sole witness to my psychotic episode placated, all physical evidence of my condition had to go. It may have been paranoia. But my notes were damning evidence. Tossing a few logs into a fireplace, I started a fire. Most of my notes were torn into hundreds of little fragments and committed to the flames. But I wasn't about to throw away the entirety of my previous day's work. I couldn't bear it. Instead, I appraised the pile. The most compromising pages were turned into untraceable ashes. The more innocuous, I took with me.

* * *

Fuelled by adrenaline, I slipped out of the village. Heading to a very particular tree. It hunkered low to a windswept hill. As though it wanted nothing more than to be sheltered by tall grasses which waved goldenly. Its branches fanned out wide, separating from each other like the petals of a flower. I think that's why Sally loved it so much. She could shimmy up the trunk of the venerable oak along the rough limbs to reach the crown in under a minute. It was her secret hideout. A place where she could be herself, away from prying eyes: adventurous, playful and childish.

I took one hand and brushed it against the ancient oak. My fingertips gripped into the crevices that ran through the aged bark. Then, I bounded up. Trained eyes ran over every familiar handhold and foothold. Every crack and crevice serve to boost me further and further till I sat on a particularly sturdy bough over thirty feet above the ground. Peering from my perch, the view over-looking the 'Ring Pool' was spectacular as usual: The clear water reflected a strong radiant glow which scintillated and beamed. It's serenity only broken by flashing green dragonflies which flitted over the surface I welcomed the serenity of it all, the buzzing of dragonflies swirling around the fragrant daisy dotted meadow and the welcoming feel of a crisp breeze against the skin.

How I wished I could stay and revel in the moment. But I had a mission to accomplish. I reached into the tree hollow where Sally had carved "Sally and Sonic" complete with cupid, heart and an arrow into the wood. There, she kept her most prized personal possessions and mementoes of immense sentimental value within a keepsakes box. A shrine to her lost childhood. The princess had in her haste to flee the castle, not knowing she would never return had taken very little in the way of personal possessions. It was a fact she agonized over, more than she cared to admit. Curiosity getting the better of me, I extricated each one from its proper place to appraise.

I spared two in particular with more than a cursory glance. One was an almost pristine toy train engine. A gift from Sonic and the other was her favourite doll. Now, Sally didn't like many 'girly' things. This however she kept. It was fashioned of what was once polished wood with fully articulated joints and flexible limbs which only someone with patience, care and great love for the recipient would have bothered to make. It was carved as Sally would say to look like a squirrel or a chipmunk. It even at one point in time had real fur attached although this had long since rotted away, eaten by damp and moths. The wood itself was pitted, cracked and warped in several places. The doll itself had a genuine silk dress torn, stained and faded with age.

I considered committing this to the fire out of spite. It didn't make sense. But somehow, I felt cheated. As though Sally's happy memories were no good substitute for a childhood. Because I didn't get a chance to experience it myself. I was just thinking of casting the worthless doll into dust when I felt a stab of pain in my heart at this barbaric notion. Almost as though Sally herself were begging me not to. As gently as I could. I picked up the worn, ratty old thing. The only physical trace Sally had of her mother.

"Sorry, Mum … Alicia. I'm about to do something foolish and risky with your daughter. I only hope you can forgive me". The doll didn't have any sage advice for me of course. However, much I wished that it did. I carefully replaced each item back to its original place, making room for my surviving notes and precious diary within the tree hollow. Just in case something was to happen to me. Arbitrarily, I drew a mental divide between the two sets of objects. This half belongs to you, Sally. I thought. But this half is mine and I will do my utmost to keep both safe.

That was the easy bit. Next, was perhaps the most foolish decision I've made yet. But I've made up my mind. Sally knew it was dangerous to descend into the heart of Robotnik's lair, Command Central. Equally, she knew it held a veritable treasure trove of technological wonders. Fantastical prototypes, caches of sophisticated weapons, state-of-the-art equipment, wonder-drugs and most importantly of all. The Roboticizer. If there was a chance in all of Mobius for Bunnie to walk again, it would be held there.

Mostly though I was afraid. Robotnik is a maniac. A matryoshka doll of insanity. If my mission was a failure. I knew his retribution would be violent, inescapable and completely impossible to imagine. He, however, is not the only thing that frightens me. I've seen the limited reactions of Sonic after his solo expeditions to Command Central. I know he is brave, gifted and experienced. Even then, behind the veneer of his cocky grin, I know him well enough to see his weariness. His fear.

I knew I was fragile. A single hit from a SWATbot would kill me and their accompanying Buzz Bomber escorts with all their speed wasn't any less dangerous. A single slip-up would be enough and I wasn't arrogant enough to believe I could avoid all the threats that would come my way. So, I retrieved a set of combat armour. It was cumbersome and binding. But it was worthwhile for the chance of surviving at least a glancing hit. The helmet part of the ensemble was more of a nuisance, owing to the need to tuck But this was accomplished with a wide stretchy headband to stop my hair from sneaking out.

My exploration of the armoury was … frightening. I discovered I can't wield the Sword of Acorns. Till now, I had been so used to being capable of everything Sally had been able to that this realization shocked me to my core. It was a birth-right to the royal lineage, imbued with the 'Source of All'. To be sure, the Sword flickers. But is otherwise inert, devoid of the usual magical glow from the 'Source of All'. With that, a whole suite of sword fighting skills from the princess's repertoire gone. Feeling a wave of exhaustion, I re-sheathed the sword, returning it to storage.

I went for the Overlander Laser Rifle instead. It brought back bad memories, but at least it was familiar…

* * *

Sally had that recurring dream in that shattered boutique. Only this time, it was silent. No robots and none of her fellow Freedom Fighters. Her Dad was there too, looking much the same as she remembered. He wore a simple circlet crown and a long blue-sleeved uniform complete with gold trimmed epaulettes on his shoulders. Behind him, was draped a long red cape which gave him the illusion of a giant as he stood behind me. He held my hand as we stared down at Tommie. I saw blood and Tommy shivered, as though he were cold.

"He's hurting," King Maximillian said in his slow soothing voice—that very same that had lulled Sally to sleep every night when he had sat on the corner of her bed and read to her from the Grimms or Bullfinch or Hamilton or Swift or any of the other writers that both he and they loved.

"Should we take him to Doctor Quack?" I asked.

Though she had poised similar questions to him before, he displayed no outward hint of frustration. "It'd take a good hour to him there, at least. He's in shock, Bean, and even if he got an injection, his heart couldn't carry it around his body." He shook his head. "You can't just leave him here for Robotnik, either." He materialised a laser rifle off his shoulder, the very same Sally was training within the real world "No, there's just one way." He passed the gun to me.

I took the rifle which seemed comically large in my small hands and stared at it for almost a minute. "Why me, Dad?" I asked sorrowfully.

"Because," he answered, averting his gaze. Still, Sally thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye, and that frightened her: her real father would never have cried. But the one forged from her imagination and a pinch of fantasy could. "Because," he repeated, "you have to. You have to be able to do this. When something isn't right, when something has gone bad, you've got to put it down. And you my little Bean will have to do it. Someday, you'll understand why."

With slow, faltering steps, I walked toward Tommy "Hush now," King Acorn said. "Just hush now. My little Bean's gonna make the pain go away."

Tommy's laboured breathing filled my ears, overwhelming even the sound of the King. This time, however, I was interrupted by a loud beeping sound as another missile embedded itself into the ground. I stumbled back. The beeping noise from the live munition seemed to grow louder, more insistent. I thrashed and flailed.

Before tumbling out of bed. My cheek struck hard against the rocky floor of Freedom Fighter HQ and the beep of the unexploded ordinance resolved into the mundane beeping of NICOLE. Stunned, I lay on the floor for almost a minute before she finally struggled out of the jumble of sheets and slapped the alarm until it went silent. My nightgown saturated with sweat, I sat on the floor for a moment and listened: the only sounds in the room were my own hard breathing, the thudding of my heart. With every hard heartbeat, my temples throbbed; the day was young, but I already had a headache. It all seemed so real.

Forcing down my panic, I jumped up, ran to my dresser, and yanked open drawers. I pulled on my vest and then searched the floor and found yesterday's jeans. It was spring now, but the limestone caverns of Freedom Fighter HQ; frontline of the struggle against Robotnik was always a few degrees below the surface. I knew this because the cold sometimes made my old injury flare up and I could see the faint outline of breath when I exhaled. So, I rifled through my wardrobe till I came across a woollen sweater which I wore in addition to the usual thinner fair.

I came to the vanity mirror. I looked frightful. My thick auburn hair stuck out around her my face like some kind of insane devil's halo, but I was in no mood to brush. By the dim illumination afforded from the overhead lights, I tugged my blue boots on, forcing my feet into the cold, stiff leather.

Having often woken up at odd hours during the night, Sally was an expert at sneaking quietly enough to avoid awakening her companions. I trod lightly through the warren of tunnels, masking the sound of my approach with the background noises of the spring that flowed over our base of operations. I ducked below the low ceilings, squeezed myself through the familiar narrow hallways toward the opening of a natural cavern that served as our training room.

I ran a hand above the doorframe of the armoury cabinet until my fingertips touched the cold metal of a key. With the key and jittery hands, I opened the gun case. If I had to fight an Overlander, I wanted an Overlander weapon. I loaded in the fusion battery into the laser rifles and inserted it's accompanying weapon accessories into a banker.

Now, fully dressed and equipped. I stepped towards the target range. Geoffrey was there too on the other side practising with his crossbow. It seemed he too had trouble sleeping. He drew his bowstring back, fired a volley of bolts in quick succession with unerring accuracy into his targets and gone over to retrieve them from the practice dummies, rinse and repeat.

Turning my attention away, my hands trembled as I looked down at the target cans laid out in a neat row across the training yard. But in Sally's mind, all she could see was Tommy. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes pleading. But his foam-flecked lips wouldn't produce any coherent words. I gaped, pulled the trigger and seared a burn mark into the soft limestone.

Geoffrey marched over to me, snatching the rifle from my hand and put the safety back on. "Hey," I shouted, "that was just for practice!"

"That was just you missing by a mile. I had to requisition that before you hurt yourself" he warned.

Years ago, he had customized this particular rifle with a large loop lever. So, he spun it, cocked it one-handed before placing it on his shoulder and firing. One of the cans fell to the floor with a faint plink. He laughed. "You know, I used to watch the old cowboy shows. So, at the academy, we practised shooting from the hip like they did." he returned the rifle out to me. "It seems fine to me, something else on your mind today?"

I sighed and wondered if I should just broach the issue to my beau and settled upon taking the direct approach "I've had that dream, about Tommy again."

She had told nobody of her fears save Bunnie and Geoffrey. Bunnie listened to the story with rapt attention. Geoffrey had called it dribble but had listened anyway. Telling them eased the nightmares: when Sally closed her eyes, Tommy still whimpered in desperation and pain, but he was quieter now.

"Imagine two lines," Geoffrey said calmly, "running from each ear to opposite eye, forming an 'X.' You shoot straight at the centre of that 'X,' and he'll go suddenly, just like that. After you do it, touch the eye. It's the most sensitive part. If there's anything left in him. He'll feel it"

I cocked the gun and placed it on my shoulder. "Hurry up now, Sally," he said. "He's hurtin'." I saw Tommy once again. He looked right at me, and he looked strangely calm. I swallowed once more, squeezed the trigger and the can fell to the floor with a loud plink…

* * *

Contrary to what Robotnik believed, breaching Robotropolis was far from insurmountable. Unfortunately, without NICOLE to accurately predict patrols, an above ground was out of the question. This left the underground route. Meaning, I needed someone who knew the subway system well. I turned to Nack the Weasel and Sonic, of course, was essential for running distractions.

Buzz Bombers were the main threat when leaving the relative safety of Knothole. So, to mitigate the risk we scattered an enormous number of decoy balloons with pre-recorded radio broadcasts in a wide radius. Each balloon carried power cells lasting several hours. Although a more reasonable lifespan was about twenty minutes. Which was approximately how long the first buzz bombers to arrive and saturate the target area with missiles. With the skies temporary shorn of patrols, it was time to make a move. Sonic as usual scouted ahead. It was rare to encounter any resistance with him at our side. Nonetheless, I kept my weapon handy while Nack wielded his, a hunting rifle.

It was quiet at first. But soon, I saw evidence of his handiwork. Dozens of desiccated SWATbots littered the narrow forest paths, marking the way to the blue speedster like a trail of breadcrumbs.

Eventually, we caught sight of the hedgehog himself. With a merry laugh, Sonic weaved around an accosting SWATbot. The towering droid attempting without success to match his swifter, nimbler opponent, only for its metal ankles to become entangled. With a harsh grating metal-on-metal noise, its owner was brought crashing heavily to the ground. Just in time to inadvertently trip up the next SWATbot, as it made a lunging attempt to take the fleet-footed Freedom Fighter from behind.

Leaving his intertwined assailants to eat his dust Sonic turned and rocketed directly into the heart of the oncoming robotic maelstrom. His teeth clenched into a fierce grin, his eyes retaining that bright and seemingly interminable spark of humour. It was the face of a hedgehog staring death in the face, daring it to give him it's very best shot.

In a matter of moments, Sonic stood atop a pile of his fallen foes with a smug look on his face. "Looking good Sal. Didn't even break a sweat." Sonic remarked while admiring his handiwork. "Wait missed one" the speedster went into his trademark spin dash into a damaged SWATbot attempting to crawl on a stump of an arm. "Alert. Priority one. Capture the hedgehog" the automated message gurgled from the damaged vocoder before it was literally bisected in half.

Struggling to catch my breath, I shook my head. "We got lucky, these were older models badly in need of maintenance."

"Aww Sal, no need for you to be such a sourpuss" Sonic grinned with his trademark smirk. I growled, my face morphing into a scowl at the hedgehog's snipe.

Sometimes, we hid rather than destroying patrols with impunity, much to Sonic's chagrin. A random pattern of destruction combined with constant backtracking was the best way to elude search patrols. It was a necessary process, but one that added many hours to our journey.

As we travelled further in the direction of Robotropolis, the remains of the forest that was once so alive chilled me to the bone. Trees that had sheltered so many with their spreading canopy of green and provided so much were now reduced to lifeless sticks of charcoal. No more vibrant than old lamp posts.

The exertion was begging to catch up, wearing heavy body armour and having an equally heavy weapon slung over my shoulder certainly didn't help. Having been on my feet for the better part of the day and not getting a wink of sleep from the night before, I was fading in and out of consciousness. Finally, after diving down in what had once been a well-manicured olive grove to dodge a swarm of surveillance orbs I managed to pass out from sheer exhaustion. When I came to, I discovered Sonic had scooped me up and was running with me. Even being thoughtful enough to tuck my face into the crook of his shoulder to prevent wind shear from whipping into my face.

* * *

I had often thought about this event. Sally would have found it exhilarating. Me? I found it terrifying. Sonic was unstoppable. If he had wanted to act against me there was little that could be done to stop him. No retribution could be enacted against him. Sally had been trained in hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship. Both would be virtually useless against the blue speedster. It was frightening on the face of it, knowing you were completely at the mercy of another. The entire event was horrendously complex, Sonic was attractive to Sally's eyes. To her, he was a perfectly good and kind person she knew. But all the same, I knew there was an extreme imbalance in power between the two of us.

Of course, all that was academic. What I actually did was squeal and sock Sonic in the jaw as I came to. To his credit, he didn't drop me. Instead, he jerked in surprise. Slowing to a stop before rubbing his jaw more in surprise than pain. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Sorry, thought you were a SWATbot for a moment" I apologized.

"Who can mistake this mug for a badnik" Sonic smirked. "Say, Sal, you seem really out of it," Sonic remarked. I frowned, Sally might have found this endearing or cute. To me? He was irksome.

"Look, I spent all night at the clinic keeping watch over Bunnie. Didn't really get a wink of sleep." I lied.

"Say, what happened to her?" he quizzed.

"I don't want to talk about it" I muttered lackadaisically.

"Hmm, sounds like bad news. I trust the good doc. If there's a way he can fix Bunnie up. He'll find it. Alright, Sal, we're here just like you wanted. Presenting Robotropolis home of the endangered species of his royal flabbiness Robotnik" Sonic announced in a faux television presenter voice.

"We'll be endangered too if you keep opening your big mouth" I complained.

"Sheesh Sal, what happened to you. You used to be way past cool." I growled taking a cheap swing at the hedgehog who instantly sidestepped, causing me to stumble. I let out a howl of frustration, wanting so badly to yell at the hedgehog for being so insufferable and childish.

Fortunately, Nack stepped in "As funny as it is to watch you two turtle doves fight it out. Don't you have something more important to do?"

"Yeah… yeah, we do Princess" Sonic smirked in contempt.

As much as I wanted to, I didn't take the bait … this time. Instead, I looked up.

* * *

In my short nap, Sonic had taken me up to the outskirts of Robotropolis. Where what should have been the symbolic heart of the Acorn Kingdom: full of screaming children with their parents and elderly couples talking about the Great War was gone. Replaced instead by enormous tower blocks blackened with soot and tall smokestacks belching thick columns of noxious fumes. While rising high above the pus-yellow smog, was a towering spire that dominated the skyline, Command Central. Like a vulture's nest, the dictator's lair towered over the city where the ghosts of a lost Kingdom lurked. Millions of Robians slaving away on the dictator's ghastly projects.

Looking around, the surrounding was a great dumping zone. Completely devoid of tree cover of any kind and virtually all life, save the most resilient rats or cockroaches. It resembled a piece of surrealist artwork. Almost every yard was covered in dangerously stacked towers of junk by slave armies of Robians whom could be seen in the distance hauling more refuse into the expanse. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't all junk either. Buried within the mishmash were useful parts that would have made Rotor drool with envy: Hover Swat units that had flown their last, dull and lifeless surveillance orbs and more disturbingly; broken remains of Robians who hadn't survived the passage of time.

At the far end of a field of smashed computer screens and unidentifiable circuit boards was our ticket in; a service subway tunnel almost hidden by the piled-up debris.

We trudged through mounds of silicon, crunching plastic under-foot. All while keeping our eyes peeled for hidden robots within the landscape. Occasionally, we ducked behind unstable junk piles to remain hidden from the distant Robians busy toiling away. Eventually, we crested over a hill of junk to the hidden service tunnel entrance. Already, a decade without maintenance was starting to show its ill-effects. A solitary tree root from a long-dead tree was starting to push through the flimsy poured concrete. The entrance was damp, with hints of moss and lichen growing near the entrance.

Nack volunteered to be the first. His short trip from the hill crest of junk to the tunnel entrance being one of the longer walks I had ever witnessed. He shone a light through the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance. If there were any of Robotnik's minions hiding inside, they would be drawn to the light like moths to the flame. Ready to be snuffed out by the anticipating hedgehog - hopefully.

"It's clean, mates" Nack announced in his thick Downunda accent. I was next. Sonic stood back, ready to whisk the both of us out. My feeble torchlight did little to peel back the gloomy darkness. The pale, flickering light only revealed a deep rock tunnel with hints of leaf mould and pale-yellow saplings eking out a bleak existence within the nooks and crannies of the dilapidated tunnel. If there was an end, my light failed to illuminate. Staring into the darkness, I half-dreaded the moment when I would pass through the arch into the claustrophobic dank, river-smelling darkness. With a nervous swallow, I nodded to Nack motioning for him to lead the way.

Without him, I would have no maps, no guides, no signs and no idea of where I was going. If something happened to him down there, Sonic and I would be lost in the darkness. Eventually, our lights would go out one by one until nothing was left. Behind me and out the tunnel was the Great Forest, warmth, and life. Down here there was only cold and darkness. I could turn back. I could abort the mission, returning to Knothole where it was safe and comfortable. Abandoning Bunnie to her fate ... I had no choice. Taking a deep breath, I mustered all of my courage and descended into the tunnel.

We stepped into pitch darkness slowly, giving an opportunity for our eyes to adjust. Using torchlights with red tape attached to see our way forward and to avoid blinding our night vision. Fortunately, our luck held out. There were no tell-tale whirs and whines from Robotnik's minions. My sensitive ears picked up nothing but the steady drip of rainwater trickling down from the city above and the crunching of gravel beneath our feet. Sonic grumbled as neither of us possessed particularly good night vision, making his incredible speed and reflexes much less useful. Fortunately, Nack was nocturnal and used to working under these sorts of conditions.

Inside the tunnel was cool and humid. In sharp contrast to the oppressive heat radiating from the city itself. The ground was bumpy and strewn with rocks from a lack of maintenance, making passage slow and forcing us to focus on taking one step at a time. Contrary to what my imagination had led me to expect, there was no spooky wind and no rocks falling. Just the sound of our breathing and the occasional splashes as we stepped into freezing-cold puddles of still brackish water, thick as molasses.

* * *

How far had we gone? A mile? Two? I couldn't tell. My light flashed at something ahead. My hopes surged. Had we arrived at the rendezvous? My dim light fell upon a massive metro security door which had formed a perfect seal against the tunnel ahead. It had been there for a long time judging from the curtain of cobwebs draped against it like a grotesque curtain. As I approached, my nose was assaulted by a terrible smell which only grew as I approached. Unconsciously, I reached for the door. It felt cold. Cold as a tomb. I withdrew my hand quickly. Brackish water was trickling out through a leak. I didn't need to be an expert to know there was something dead, rotting and floating behind those doors.

"Don't eulogize them," Nack said dispiritedly.

"Sorry?"

"You have that look. Like maybe you lost someone and I don't think brooding is healthy" he responded.

"No that's not it" I lied, secretly impressed at Nack's night vision "It's just that. I never actually rode on the subway before all this went down. And… I really would like to someday."

"Ah, that's good too, hoping for a brighter future. Just be careful what you wish for, princess. Especially once you've experienced the morning rush hour." Nack let out a throaty laugh. I didn't smile. I filed the memory away. One more in an endless litany of crimes Robotnik will answer for. "I must've made a wrong turn. All these additions made by survivors makes navigation difficult."

"Survivors?" I asked incredulously.

"During Robotnik's coup, the underground lasted for some time. It's hard to keep track of all the changes they made. But we'll backtrack and get on our way" Nack shook his head. "I lived here for a time with my unit. We're able to hold them. But Robotnik flooded the place and unleashed his bots. I left early on. Those that stayed? Done and gone." Nack's voice broke.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled.

"Don't be. I survived while better people didn't - Do you think that makes me a coward?" Nack asked.

I shook my head "It's pragmatism that's what it is" Here and there I could see evidence of fighting from years ago. Although much was worn away through the relentless passage of time. Here and there, my pale torchlight could catch glimpses of rusting robot parts "You gave them hell, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good, never stop making him pay."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"This place gives me the creeps Sal. Ya need to stop moping around and get on out of here before more badniks show up" Sonic complained. I couldn't agree more with the hedgehog's sentiment. Turning away from the security door, I followed my guide, backtracking our way through the labyrinth of dark winding passages.

"A few words of encouragement for this old soldier; your highness?" Nack asked.

"Hmm." I continued walking. "I don't know if this is any help to you, but I often had to do things I didn't feel ready for. So, I learned two tricks. Want to hear them?"

"Let's hear it."

"Okay. The first is, learn to improvise. More than once, I didn't have a clue what to do, but I acted like I did and came up with something. It usually worked. When faced with a monstrous metallic replica of Sonic we defeated it by outrunning its power cable. When Dulcy kept unconsciously trying to fly to Dragon's cairn to complete her rite of passage we built one just like it in Knothole which did the trick."

"You actually did all that?"

"We played for keeps. That brings me to my second trick."

He swallowed. "And that is—?"

"Never let them see you bleed. When you're scared to death, that's exactly the time to hold your ground, keep calm, and assess your advantages.

"I would much prefer to hold my ground at home—" Nack breathed.

"That's what it was always about. Home. We need to fight to keep ours."

* * *

According to Nack, We were headed to a major rail line in the central Robotropolis. Robotnik generally only kept a handful of major rail lines running between his factories. The rest of the system, no longer relevant to his war machine was left to the elements.

Overhead, the industrial noises of Robotropolis grew more audible, seeming to echo off all the walls at once. Up ahead, I could hear the sound of robots. Although ascertaining where from was difficult given the tendency for the acoustics in the tunnels to bounce sounds in all directions.

From a dozen feet away, Nack clicked. Instantaneously, we dropped to the ground. Moments later, a bright glaring headlamp lit up the tunnel. I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to filter out the glare as Moto Bugs, an obsolete model of badnik drove by at high speed.

It was unusual for Robotnik to continue using such archaic designs, but he was loathed to let anything go to waste. Here it seemed, they found their niche guarding the catacombs of Robotropolis. Occasionally, their bright flood lamps illuminated scores of Robians who were busy working on expanding a tunnel ahead. A constant stream emerged from the unfinished tunnel with a wide complement of tools. It was only thanks to Nack's natural night vision and hyper-keen senses that we had a precious few seconds of notice. We dared not make a move as the robots came close enough to touch. One false move and the entire Robotropolis could come crashing down around our heads. I held my breath as their searchlights washed over our position. Nack and I took careful aim at the leading bot. Luckily, there was plenty to hide behind and the patrol passed us over in their predictable search pattern. Getting to our feet, we moved slowly and ducked between shadows the entire way.

During our passage, we had plenty of opportunities to observe the near zombie-like Robians slaving away. All throughout their metal bodies were clear signs of neglect, pit marks, dings and dents. Mostly though, I remembered thinking to myself how I would rather die than suffer their fate, working till my limbs gave way on one of Robotnik's megalithic projects.

"Don't eulogies them" I whispered under batted breath to calm my jittery nerves. Then, I saw it. A runt of a Robian smaller than the rest. I whimpered involuntarily at the sight and stifled back a wave of tears. Mercifully, the searchlight sweeps over the former beige-coloured rabbit. The rest of the journey passed in silence as we snuck past the steady stream of Robians, towards a makeshift tunnel which Nack assured us would be there. It was nerve-wracking darting across the last few meters of exposed ground with naught but darkness to mask our passage.

We would be going in virtually blind given we'd switched off our flashlights a while ago. Timing our passage. Nack would go first. Then me, followed by Sonic. Nack disappeared into the darkness. If the passage wasn't there when Nack said it was …

Click.

I got down onto my hands and knees feeling my way forward. It was small. This clearly wasn't part of the original layout. But rather, a later addition by survivors. I unslung my rifle, sucked my gut in and squeezed my way through the narrow crawl space. Here, there weren't any of Robotnik's minions. But there were dangers nonetheless. The air was foul from chemical runoff whose fumes had built-up in the poor ventilation. My eyes watered and my throat stung. I regretted not bringing a gas mask.

At long last, we arrived at a dingy wine cellar. In its day, it must have held the most exclusive vintages of Mobius within its wooden racks, now left buck bare. There were brackets for candles every few feet, but it had been so long since their use that there was no residual wax left on them. The air within was slightly musty but the dim light trickling from the holes in the ceilings above revealed no hint of water. As far as meeting places went, Sir Charles could have done far worse. Standing there in the far corner, the Robian himself stood, waiting patiently.


	8. The Grand Inventor

**The Grand Inventor**

"Hello, nephew. Hello Sally and friend. I do hope your trip was uneventful," the Robian greeted warmly.

"Missed ya, uncle," Sonic gasped, wrapping his arms around his Uncle's robotic body.

"Look, I hate to interrupt, but you have information for the Freedom Fighters, right?" I asked.

Sir Charles nodded. "I'll only have a little time before my absence will be noted so I'll have to be quick about it."

Reaching into a pouch slung over his shoulder Sir Charles extricated a small silvery disk. "Here's a data disk for NICOLE containing the schematics for the Doomsday Project. Like I mentioned to Sonic, I don't have all the details as it's still being assembled outside Robotropolis. If you had her with you, I could show you."

"She's in the shop for maintenance," I answered with a straight face.

"That's a real shame. It'd be easier to explain with her. Here's the thing. I ran into a bottleneck. I believe most of the parts required for the evacuation project can be secured here. However, I'll need a power source sufficient to run the device and siphoning power from Robotropolis won't work, he'll investigate. Power rings would do in a pinch, as many as you can ... or a chaos emerald."

I nodded. Sir Charles would think of everything, the plan certainly sounded feasible. Power Rings were readily obtainable from the 'Ring Pool' but Chaos Emeralds much less so given the vast majority were in Robotnik's hands. "Just how exactly is this different from his previous attempts to wipe us out?" I asked.

"I think you'll be pleased to know your efforts have caused more than a few grey hairs on Robotnik's head. That is ... if you could find any. You've frustrated and humiliated him. He knows the sheer size of the Great Forest masks your operations well and even he lacks the resources to police such a vast area. So," Sir Charles paused for dramatic effect, "he's built a machine that can. It's called a Death Egg, Sally. An enormous spherical floating station. It bristling with cannons capable of spotting a field mouse in the brush and vaporizing it. It's got shielding that makes it practically invulnerable and to top it all off, it can land a small army anywhere."

Sir Charles waited, letting the gravity of the message sink in. Noting the visible looks of dismay on his guests, Sir Charles continued. "Trust me, Robotnik spared no expense on its construction. You don't want to be anywhere around it."

"How does such a large machine stay aloft? Surely it would have to refuel or land so we can hit it while it's vulnerable, can't we?" I asked, desperately for any way out of our predicament.

Sir Charles, clearly having anticipated his guests' questions, had an answer prepped. "It's kept aloft indefinitely by the Master Emerald seized from Angel Island. Supplies are dispatched via Hover Swat which is required to provide the correct IFFs or be destroyed with the station's anti-air arsenal." With a shake of his head, Sir Charles let loose a garbled sigh. "I wished I could say otherwise but fleeing is a better option. I'll buy you time by sabotaging the components manufactured here."

"There's no question. I'm not running. Where is it being assembled offsite? We're going to destroy it while it's being built," I stated adamantly.

"Oh Sally, I wished it were so simple. But he's left nothing to chance. He's assembling his creation in Artika, far outside your operational range. But he'll bring his creation here and destroy everything."

"Look, perhaps it's not my place princess, but this sounds like an issue for a council of war. We really should head back before dark and plan your next move," Nack interjected.

Nack's words made sense. But Sally hated war meetings. Too many dissenting voices. Too many opinions. So many opinions that sometimes brought the consensus to carrying on like nothing happened. I had to arrive at a decision now. But I would be a fool not to listen to Sir Charles. The one Mobian who was intellectually Robotnik's equal.

My mind raced. There had to be a way. The problem was we didn't have many options for targeting such a large high-flying battle station. Only Dulcy could, at a stretch, reach its operational altitude and that was without factoring in the defensive armament of the station. Hijacking a resupplying Hover Swat was an option. However, that too carried its own risk. Somehow, we had to capture one in mid-flight, fool the security systems and land a force sufficient to take on the station from the inside.

"Sally, I know it's a hard decision for you. And I know how badly you want to keep everyone safe. But even if by some miracle you do destroy Robotnik's creation the odds will still be against you. Even without his superweapon, Robotnik possesses more than enough conventional forces to utterly destroy you. But I leave the final decision to you, Sally. You're old and mature enough to make that choice," the Robian spoke confidently, so trusting in his former student to make the right choice.

"Look, Sal, whatever you decide now. I'll support you. Okay?" Sonic comfortingly placed his hand on my shoulders. Sometimes, Sonic knew just the right words to say.

I stared at my blue boots. Both Nack and Sir Charles had raised good points. It would have been so easy to go back and trust in the consensus. But I couldn't. Looking back, I felt ashamed. I didn't earn Sir Charles confidence and I certainly didn't feel either mature or wise enough to decide for everyone. All I knew was that I had to make a decision, not to dither, defer, and abstain. Abstention was an option meant for cowards. I was not a coward.

"I'll destroy it. The question I think isn't really 'whether' but 'how'." I swallowed down the butterflies in my stomach, replying with an air of confidence unbecoming for my frayed nerves.

"Look, Sally, you know as well as I that it's suicidal," Sir Charles protested. I knew he rarely raised his voice and when he did it was a frightening prospect.

"Yeah, that's my gal. Just do it, and if that doesn't work, do it faster and harder. We'll ram that station down Eggman's throat before he knows what hit him." Sonic could barely suppress an enthusiastic grin.

"Look, Nephew, please don't support her on this. We'll need to get the evacuation plan started soon," Uncle Chuck protested putting his foot on the ground.

"You know, everyone, it seems a waste to simply blow it up," Nack said.

"What do you mean?"

"There will be hundreds of badniks stationed on board along with the necessary command codes to reprogram them as we see fit. Of course, there are also the ship's massive weapons systems. Imagine controlling even a fraction all that power," Nack elaborated.

"Take it?" Sonic yelped. "Steal the Death Egg?"

My eyes lit up. For the first time in a very long time. If we play our cards right. We can win this. Win this for good. I felt so deliriously happy as I embraced Nack. "You're a genius!" I exclaimed.

Uncle Chuck opinionated cautiously. "It is, of course possible. It won't be like stealing a Hover Swat. Every system on board the Death Egg is encrypted. It might take me an hour to break any one sequence, and if I'm even a minute late it'll roll over and I'll need to restart. An hour to get you into navigation, for example. And another hour to gain access to weapons systems."

Then everyone started talking at once, arguing, posturing, scoring, debating points.

"That's enough," Sir Charles interrupted. "There's no way any of you will be able to survive the garrison stationed onboard." That was a valid point. One that would leave Nack's strategy in limbo. But it was so close. I could sense it. Just a few missing elements that would make things right.

Mentally, I filtered out the distracting noise of Sonic attempting to reason with his Uncle. I calmed my mind. Stilled my pounding heart into a slow gentle rhythm and matched my breathing to the beat. But my thoughts immediately returned to everyone and everything plaguing me. Then, amid the firestorm of ideas, one blossomed out like the loveliest flower. "Are there Robians on board?" I asked.

"Yes Sally, several hundred of them to keep the ship in operational condition. I fail to see the point you're making," the Robian responded.

"The Robians are controlled by a mainframe located on the Death Egg itself, right? What if we overrode their programming to cause havoc onboard? It's an isolated place. Reinforcements will take some time to arrive from ground level. It'll even the odds once we storm it," I postulated.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing Sally. I'm … I'm disappointed in you that you would suggest such a monstrous thing. If we did that then surely, we would be no better than Robotnik. Have you forgotten these are our people, their minds trapped within their metal shells? I must have suffered some malfunction to have misheard you suggesting such ghastly deeds. I won't be privy to this."

A small part of me, one that I would now call naïve seemed to be clinging to that last shred of hope that I would somehow be able to change his mind. Something Sally was never able to accomplish herself. He always won their debates. Clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides, I spoke forcefully, yet also imploringly. "Look, Sir Charles. It's a few hundred Robians for millions more enslaved within Robotropolis itself. Please reconsider."

Sir Charles froze for a moment upon hearing words so far afield from what he knew of his most faithful student. If his mechanical jaw could hang I was sure that it would. "It's true then. I guess I wasn't mishearing. My answer is the same, Sally. I won't do it. I won't let you do this to yourself."

* * *

Ordinarily, Sally would have been aghast with horror. To have the kind and noble Sir Charles disappointed in her would have torn her heart. Me? I was indignant with rage. The vexing of the soul I felt was intoxicating. It burned like fire was lacing my veins and creeping up my spine. The acidity of it resided in my stomach, waiting to be spat out of my mouth in foul and vulgar words.

"You know, Sir Charles. I know why you want us to give up the fight. I know why you want us to run. It's because deep down, you fear what will happen if … when we win."

Sir Charles stared blankly at me. "Sorry Sally, what are you talking about?"

"Because I know, that when we win. There'll be a reckoning. Millions of freed Robians will be looking for vengeance. On the one who condemned them to a decade of servitude, unable to travel a few miles to embrace their significant other, unable even to grieve as their loved ones fell apart."

Sir Charles was silent. He was an intelligent person. I think he knew what I was getting at.

"There will need to be a scapegoat, Sir Charles. Tell me, who that scapegoat will be," I demanded. There was more awkward silence at my tirade. "No one? The one who invented the Roboticizer. The one who made all this possible. It was you Sir Charles," I stated, pointing an accusatory finger at the stunned Robian.

Sonic intervened, looking angrier than I imagined possible for the suave hedgehog. "Don't say that about my uncle. He's been helping us as soon as he was freed. You're not being fair. You can't blame him for what Robotnik did with his invention."

I ignored him and continued my ruthless harangue. "Sir Charles, your 'help' will be a footnote in a great list of failures. Deep down you know that regardless of what you do, you won't be able to atone for the damage you've caused. You don't want us to win. Because when we do, your name will be reviled by all. You'll rust in prison. Your 'achievements' will be stricken from the history books. Tell me if I'm wrong."

"How could you say that? You're sick Sal."

"Shut up!" I yelled at the insufferable hedgehog before turning back to the Robian.

"And that's your problem, isn't it?" I continued. "Deep down you know there is a part of you willing and able to do terrible things to preserve your name. By asking us to abandon the fight. Sacrifice millions of our people in slavery -"

"Never!" Sir Charles shouted back, cutting me off from my tirade. He paused once more, looking back down at the floor as he wrestled with his thoughts. "Never, Sally." He repeated, more quietly this time. "I admit, building the Roboticizer and making all this possible is something I cannot forgive myself for. There are things too which I've done in that state. Things I may never be able to forgive myself for. But every day since my free will was restored. I think about making amends. I would rather die than risk getting more people hurt."

Even as Sir Charles words rang in the air, I felt pangs of regret. Each of my words had been saturated with ugliness, as though they were uttered by some savage beast and not a syllable of it was what I truly yearned to say. "Would you kill?" I asked. I had no illusion as to what my earlier request to Sir Charles was. The question caught Sir Charles off guard. "That's more to the point, isn't it? Would you kill hundreds of Robians, sacrifice your name to save millions more?" The room fell silent. So quiet one would wonder if anyone were even breathing. There was no good answer to the question, and I knew it.

"You don't have to answer that," Sonic declared, being the first one to recover from my rant. Before turning to me, locking eyes with me. "What in the world is the matter with you Princess?" The answer was simple, I hated Sir Charles for giving up the fight. For asking everyone to run when victory was so tantalizingly close, for refusing to save Mobius.

"Sir Charles, if you cared about atonement," I began, ignoring Sonic. "If you really cared about things like justice and doing good. Once you had recovered your mental faculties, you would have stood trial for your punishment."

"Sal, that's not fair, it was Robotnik that did those things, not Uncle Chuck! He doesn't deserve to be punished," Sonic challenged.

"Of course, it's fair! When a criminal commits a crime, just like he did, their intentions are mitigating factors. Not a free pass. Just because he is righting his wrongs now doesn't mean his crimes are forgiven," I said, pointing an accusatory finger at the Robian.

"Sal!" I found myself being grabbed by Sonic. It wasn't until now that I really noticed how livid the speedster had become. "You're a piece of work you know that? How dare you say something like that to my Uncle! He doesn't deserve that and you know it."

"Do I?" I challenged, only serving to anger the hedgehog further.

Cognizance seemed to flood back into the Robian, his body tautened as though being bound by ropes woven from sheer turmoil. Before the momentary paralysis departed, dissolving as though it had never been "You… may be right, Sally." Sir Charles finally spoke up, earning the attention of the others. "I might… deserve to be put in prison for the rest of my days." the robotic voice wavered. "But I couldn't bear it…"

The cellar fell silent once more, processing what Sir Charles had said. Looking up at him, I was surprised by the appearance of the Robian. He managed to look doleful, mixed with desperation, and maybe even a little fear. I didn't care. All I could hear was his condemnation of millions to continued slavery. My hatred for him rose. Never before, had I felt such a level of vitriolic hate before or since. This time, it was not breath but self-control I fought to keep. Only when the battle was won did I trust myself to continue my admonition. As I did, my tone was no longer white-hot with intensity but instead hard and flat. "As Princess, I see the wisdom of letting you stay here rather than stand trial. In doing so, I've administered a worse punishment to you." I went on, noting a look of confusion from my companions.

"By letting you stay, I've let you see the result of your mistakes every day. Year after year, you'll get to see your fellow Robians turned to scrap. But because of your natural self-preservation instincts, You'll be forced to outlive all of them." I paused, letting each poisoned barb sink its hooks in before continuing. "You'll long to die more than anything else, but your immortality won't allow it."

The Robian trembled as though in deep pain. Another heavy pause followed before I let out a huff. For a moment, I really questioned myself as to whether or not anyone could ever deserve such a punishment. I didn't have to ponder for long though. Not when I recalled the countless lines of enslaved Robians working in the tunnels, victims of Sir Charles's invention. "I'm glad," I declared. "I hope you live forever, Sir Charles." I sneered. "I hope your suffering never ends, you deserve it."

"Sal, how could you be so horrible?" Sonic pulled me towards himself, his voice on the verge of trembling as well. "How could you say something like that?"

I opened my mouth to reply, only to hesitate due to a strange sound. The Robian visibly shuddered, clutching his head as though in deep pain. However, the sight of the Robian attempting to cry didn't last long as Sir Charles bolted out of the cellar with astonishing speed. "No Uncle, wait!" Sonic called but made no attempt to chase him down.

Instead, he turns towards me with an expression that sends a chill down my spine. It was as if his customary warmth and laughter had evaporated. I knew it would be pointless to reach him now as whatever placating words Sally knew would bounce off like hard rain. "What screwed you up so badly?" Sonic shook his head, almost at a complete loss as what to say next. "You're broken, Sal." A part of me had to admit, maybe I had taken things too far.

"Get this back home," Sonic said, holding out the silvery disk. Nack nodded palming it, before slipping away. I drew a deep breath, pressing myself against the cellar wall.

As soon as Nack was out of sight, I felt a breeze. Which was all the time it took for Sonic to bolt behind me and hold my head within in his hands, one of which gripped my jaw. There was no sensation of pain, or even discomfort, only firm gloved hands. I felt my blood draining and my heart hammering erratically in my chest. I stifled back a whimper. I knew he could reduce me to a stain in an instant, and there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

"Sal, tell me something only you would know," Sonic said in a flat tone before releasing my jaw and allowing me to speak. Was this it? Did he suspect I was some sort of robot? I took a shallow breath.

"You were five when we were at Elias's birthday. He got a train set. Which dad wouldn't let me have. So, while you distracted him, I stole the caboose and slipped you the engine. He found out and broke my arm. But I managed to chip his tooth. When I was grounded, you gave me the engine. I didn't thank you then, but I kept it. The engine I mean, not the tooth. Because keeping the tooth would be creepy."

Sonic threw up his arms in disbelief. His expression softened. "Don't cha know it, I thought you had forgotten about that …" he began before his expression morphed into a disappointed scowl. "I know we need to do bad things to win sometimes but don't you ever speak to my uncle that way again."

"Of course, I wasn't myself when I said those things. Are we good?" I asked. I didn't need Sir Charles's permission. So long as Rotor could get NICOLE repaired she would manage just as well in his place.

"You're my best friend Sal. Of course, I would never hurt you just … don't bring this up again alright?"

"You're right I was out of line. I won't do that again. I promise." Sonic turned and headed for the tunnels. "Wait. You're just going to walk off?" I asked nervously. With our guide who knows how far gone, we would struggle to retrace our steps through the byzantine maze of tunnels.

"Look, Sal, please don't push things any further. I've made my choice. I'd rather pretend this never happened. I just wished I knew what's eating ya … it's about Bunnie isn't it?" he asked.

Sonic may not have been very academically inclined, but he was far from stupid. "Sonic, meeting your Uncle here wasn't my only objective coming here. Bunnie is dying." I let the words hang for a minute. It wouldn't be too late to run the rational part of my mind yelled. My heart told me it wasn't right guilt tripping Sonic into coming and my gut instinct told me it would be safer together. "And I'll need your help breaking into Robotnik's citadel to find her medicine," I finished after a pregnant pause.

Sonic's face once torn and conflicted now seemed to regain much of its previous character and energy. "That sounds a lot more like the Sal I know. Alright, I'm the expert here. So, I'm in charge. Follow my lead and we should be there lickety-split."

I wished I shared his bravado. I truly did. "So, fearless leader what's the plan?"

"Well, the last time I got out of ole Buttnik's place was through the old sewer grate. But Lardnik won't be fooled the same way twice. We'll need a guide. Say Sal don't you happen to have a radio with you?"

"Yeah, I do," I reply, extricating a handheld from my 'Boot Pouch' where NICOLE was normally kept. "If you use them for more than a few minutes, Robotnik will be able to track us," I cautioned. "Don't forget to continue your conversations from a different radio. It'll make it harder for Robotnik to track."

"Thanks, Sal. Need it to contact our guide, Ari. The one ram who's crazy enough to make it here." It sounded incredible. A living breathing Mobian here? In the heart of Robotropolis? It aroused my suspicion. Equally, having a guide in the treacherous landscape was invaluable.

"That's … a good idea actually. Just don't forget to give him our location in code. You'll never know who's listening in," I cautioned.

"He'll be awhile. Till then, we can rest here. I'll take first watch."

"Thanks, Sonic … I really appreciate it," I say with genuine gratitude.

I lie on the hard concrete floor beneath a threadbare blanket left behind by a long-absent survivor. I think of Tails and Sally's memories of a simpler time flooded through my time flowed through my head as I try to rest.. He may wear on my patience sometimes. But it's always a rewarding experience. He will never know the pain and hardship his adoptive parents go through. Not at least as long as I draw breath…

* * *

The small lawn just west of the slanted, dying sycamore had been getting unwieldy. So, I decided to make this necessary chore into a training exercise for the young kit. While I may have wished for Tails' childish innocence to remain intact as long as possible, I could not in good conscience neglect the development of his fighting skills. So, I set him in a circle and instructed him to trim the grass within the radius using his powers.

Tails asked me innocently if we would ever return to Freedom Fighter HQ. I know Geoffrey feels the loss worst of all. We shouldn't be abandoning our breakwater against Robotnik's invasion he argues. But we had no way of expanding our numbers if every training drill chanced a robot encounter. So, I told him that we might once things were settled down.

He asked if this training will make him a hero like Sonic. I know blades of grass make poor substitutes for genuine targets. Nonetheless, I told him it would better prepare him for the inevitable challenges ahead. He nodded and presented no further questions, apparently taking my words at face value.

Tails channelled chaos energies into his twin fluffy namesakes and swept them about like a pair of living lawnmower blades, kicking up a miniature whirlwind of clods of dirt and grass clippings. This training will teach him to better deliver tail strikes into our foes and may serve to save his life one day. I wonder if I will ever be able to send him into open combat. This thought sickens me. The thought of bearing offspring myself sickens me. A surge of unpleasant nausea rose inside me every time I reminded myself of what had transpired.

There was a point in her childhood where Sally vowed never to procreate. She had however been reaching that age of relevant physical maturity. When any species does that, they have urges. Shallow urges to fulfil base desires, deeper ones to propagate their family.

I spent a long time trying to deny what happened. Only to find myself trying to recall every sensation, every touch and feeling. I remembered blurting out a giggle as Geoffrey St. John straddled me and pinned my upper arms against my tree. His sweet whisperings on how good I make things.

I remembered feeling angry; at myself; for not withholding for tomorrow what feels better to spend today; for giving in. I dislike that term, but what better word is there? 'Indulged' implies an acknowledgement of guilt and 'erred' makes it seem like it was. No, I was angry; most of all, that the experience hadn't been more significant. But as the novelty wore off, I realized that however wrong my self- indulgent behaviour was, the act wasn't inherently unforgivable.

So, I wanted it to happen again.

I know I am making excuses for myself. My place is to serve my people. Not to fulfil shallow, petty, physical desires. But in spite of the responsibility I bear. I can't extricate my own personal desires from those of my ambitions. I can't.

After that experience I noticed my trainees seeming unusually antsy when I had returned. This confused me for far too long until I realized that I would normally train with them. Even if we didn't, I would communicate and encourage them. Larry the Lynx just nodded and told me what they had accomplished in my absence. It's good that my people are learning to step up and pick up the slack. But that makes me feel more disappointed in myself.

My people are so unbelievably trusting that they let me leave on a whim. Why isn't there more oversight? Why won't anyone say, 'No Sally, you're special. You can't do that. That's not for you'. No one ever tells me what I can and cannot do. This means I never know if I'm doing the right thing.

I knew I was smitten. But I don't know if this was love, along with all of its associated complexities and contradictions. All I knew was that it was too late to turn back, but I didn't want to anyway. That, despite how roughly and unpredictably we came together. A princess trying to be a queen and a military cadet trying to be a warrior... I didn't want us to be apart.

He has avoided me for the past several days now afterwards. Actually, that is not accurate. He didn't seek me out. Nonetheless, I remember I felt hurt. I found myself looking over my shoulders more than I normally do. I was confused about the war, I was confused about myself. I wondered what was expected of me. How much I could withhold without being accused of selfishness. How much I could control without being called overbearing and dictatorial. Leadership is a very subtle balancing act.

I heard Geoffrey is calling for me and I tell Tails to stop and get himself cleaned up. There's a motley assortment of new residents that needed to be welcomed.

I know it grows more unlikely with each passing year but I still hoped my brother will be among them. It doesn't matter to me if he was like the rest of them; scared, hungry, and afraid. He needn't arrive at the head of an army to save the day. I don't have that fantasy anymore.


	9. Lair of Naugus

**Lair of** **Naugus**

Cold metal hands grip my back, shaking me, waking me. My eyes shoot open. Blurry, sleep-deprived vision making out only a thick red haze mere inches away. Blinking rapidly, my eyes come to focus on the unmistakable sight of a glowing red visor SWATbot! It looms over me. My heart pounds away in terror. I stagger backwards. My blue boots marked a desperate and squelching trail across the concrete floor. A gurgle escapes my throat as I drew a breath to scream, but a gloved hand clamps over my mouth from behind.

Mm. I moaned pitifully.

"Calm down princess, it's just Ari. Look," Sonic said reassuringly. I drew several deep breaths through my nose, and felt an immense sense of relief when the 'SWATbot' pried off its chrome helmet; revealing a stocky ram with a curved pair of horns and a pair of soulful, hazelnut brown eyes beneath.

Ari met my wide-eyed gaze with his own. Though his eyes were firm, I saw traces of loneliness, and a little desperation even as they became unfocused. These were eyes of experience. His fur was matted; and a strong, musky body odour wafted forth from the exposed portion of his torso. Beneath his breath, I picked up the stench of alcohol. All the signs pointing to someone living alone for a while. Still, in spite of his odious personal hygiene and an eccentric lifestyle, he was a Mobian; a living, breathing Mobian.

My breathing slows down and Sonic uncovers my mouth. "You scared me. I nearly had a heart attack," I said with an odd unassailable confidence for my fluttering heart.

"Sorry princess, it's just good to see another Mobian again after so long." The ram spoke waveringly, as though it was unused to the sound of his own voice.

"Now that 'Sleeping Beauty' is up, we need a way in; any ideas?" Sonic asked with a playful smirk. This earned him a dirty look from me which he waved off.

Ari nodded and said, "Robotnik had his fortress sealed-up tight ever since your last escape, but I think I can get you into the castle if I slipped you through the loading docks on the West Wing."

"We'll be disguised as cargo, correct?" I clarified.

"Yes princess, " Ari said as he stepped aside to reveal two metal bins filled to the brim with robot parts. Reaching below, he swung open a latch revealing a hidden compartment just large enough a Mobian to sit comfortably within and motioned for us to enter. "You see, it's a false top. The overhead sensors will only pick up the metal parts on top. Allowing me to smuggle you through," Ari elaborated with an odd sense of neediness to his voice, almost as though he wanted, no, needed us to obey.

I frowned, climbing into a metal bin was ... unappealing to say the least. For a start, we would be virtually blind and deaf within, making it a certain death trap if something went wrong. A chill ran up my spine as I struggled to come up with cause for protest. "Look this is stupid. I'm not going in," I protested.

"Princess, I must insist you …" the ram began, reaching for my arm.

Just then, I realised something like a bolt from the blue., "Ari? The castle never had a West Wing."

* * *

Like a switch, Ari's demeanour flips from eccentric hermit to predatory thug. With a snort, he barrelled into me. He was large, especially with his bulky unergonomic armour; that should've meant slow, but nothing could be further from the truth. Ungulates like him moved so damned fast. He blindsided me and smashed the side of my head with a metal fist, causing me to bounce against an empty wine rack.

As I reeled from the weight of the blow, he spun around, bucking me so hard that I flew a dozen feet before crashing down. Luckily, my body armour had borne the brunt of the blows. Nonetheless, it was hard to think, hard to decipher what was happening. My eyes wouldn't focus and I couldn't draw in more than a wheezing, shallow breath. "Clever girl," the ram snarled, venom dripping from every syllable as he stalked toward me. "Couldn't go the easy way, could you?"

It was that threat that got me to focus. Being brought before the dictator to be turned into his robotic thrall, left trapped within my own body as a screaming voice while the dictator committed unspeakable acts of terror through me. I don't know if there's a more terrifying fate in all of Tartarus. Maybe there is, but I don't have the imagination to envisage it. So, when someone threatens to take my freedom - the scarcest commodity in all of Mobius. I notice and I act.

My brain was still too addled for complex decision-making. Luckily, there was an easier option: my weapon was still strapped securely to me. At that range, even with my fuddled head, it was like hitting the broad side of the barn.

I brought my laser rifle to bear; he saw it of course, and he tried to his momentum. Most likely, he didn't think I would do anything drastic. He probably expected me to threaten him so I could run. Maybe I should have. But I didn't. My finger wrapped around the trigger. The laser rifle was an Overlander response to the Acorn's Kingdom's SWATbots. It came with a few power settings, ranging from 'laser-pointer' to being able to punch through a few meters of steel at the maximum setting.

Unfortunately for Ari, it was set to the latter. There was no recoil, no kickback. Only a searing blue-beam of light which tore through Ari's makeshift armour like a fist through wet tissue paper. Instantly I smelt burnt hairs, flesh and plastic. He staggered, but I didn't relent. Instead, I fired again and again. Under the withering onslaught of fire, Ari twitched before falling to the floor with a crash.

I recalled looking at his supine form and thinking of just how easy it had been to take a life. He was so still. His eyes still open and staring blankly at the ceiling. I expected him to twitch at any moment, to blink, cough or breathe so that his chest would rise that fraction of an inch to show he still lived. My sensitive ears could still pick up the marching feet of SWATbots above, but it might as well be white noise. I had killed a fellow Mobian and the realization crept in slowly. I could barely move, barely breathe. Until I heard Sonic`s barely audible protests.

"Hey, Ari what's going on outside … what gives?"

Like a rubber band of tension, I snap back into regular awareness and drew a lungful of air, only to choke as the ceiling above exploded into a cloud of dust and dark hulking forms dropped through.

* * *

There was no time to reflect. No time to mourn. No time to plan. Just enough time to rely upon honed combat instincts. I crouched and kneecapped the nearest SWATbot with a well-aimed blast, causing it to buckle and crash to the floor. A metal hand reached for me through the swirling dust cloud. Using all of my inherited agility, I sidestepped, sliding toward the SWATbot's least armoured spot, it's 'armpit'.

Tseew! Another down.

More emerged through the slowly dissipating dust cloud. Already, I had wasted too much time. Throwing caution to the wind, I ignored them all. I vaulted over their downed comrade, pulling the bolt securing Sonic in place and ducking behind the bin for cover in one smooth motion. The wily hedgehog swiftly burst forth from his makeshift prison. Taking only a moment to adjust to his new surroundings, he faced his foes with a confident smirk. The effect on our surviving assailants was instantaneous. As every SWATbot forged within the furnaces of Robotropolis had been programmed to consider the hedgehog's apprehension its ultimate priority.

"Priority One! Hedgehog alert!" they chanted, training their weapons on the blue speedster. Clutching my own, I leaned out ready to lend a helping hand. In retrospect, I needn't have bothered. Sonic was already in the thick of the fray. He zig-zagged around the narrow confines of the cellar like a blue pinball. Each of his movements was like a dance, carefully choreographed. Every bounce from robot-to-wall, wall-to-robot held just enough momentum to clinically dissect his foes. In a matter of seconds, the dozen or so SWATbots were a pile of mangled limbs.

"Why the nerve of that ram," Sonic growled as he came neatly to a stop, stomping his red sneakers into the ground. "Never thought he would sell-out to ole Buttnik. Where do we go, Sal?"

"Up!" I yelled. "Get up on street level as fast as you can. We need space to manoeuvre!"

"Righto Sal, hold on. I'll head on up to the older parts of town. That way we'll lose Robuttnik," Sonic replied.

* * *

Sonic scooped me up gently, bridal style. Carefully bracing my neck against the crook of his shoulder before bounding up and onto the foggy streets where an atrabilious semblance always hung. Above, there had to be an entire company of SWATbots with Buzz Bombers acting in support. Like their fallen brethren below, they gurgled, "Priority One! Capture the hedgehog."

"You're too slow, slowpokes; Up, Over, and Gone!" Sonic challenged, before leaving our foes in the dust.

Through borrowed memories and my imagination, I could envision it. Mobotropolis as it was. What can be said about this city that hasn't already been said by every wandering minstrel and two-bit poet who ever visited? Mobotropolis was a jewel. Not a rough one, either. It was polished, cut, shaped, and beautifully set. It gleamed, it shimmered, glistened, and glowed. In its heyday, it was home to millions and drew the envy of others. It was a brilliant white star by day. A sea of a thousand lights by night.

Radiant. That's the word for it. It's no accident that it was built where it is, no quirk of economics, fate and happenstance that brought it into being. No, Mobotropolis was the result of deliberate and concerted action by Sally's forebears within the Acorn dynasty. All guided by the unerring judgement of the Source of All. Their collective actions over the generations forged a beautiful city with civilization, technology, and nature coexisting in perfect harmony.

But the city's brilliance casts some of the darkest shadows. Like a hidden plague devouring its host from within, Robotnik was able to subvert the Kingdom's automated defences, transforming the once beautiful city into the stuff of nightmares, but he couldn't destroy everything. No, here and there, traces remained.

I recognized our surroundings, but scarcely so. What should have been a bustling street in Lower Mobotropolis was now endless rows of dark and shuttered storefronts. Gone were the food vendors and their proprietors in bright clothes selling hand-made wares, fine clothing, and delicacies from wicker baskets. Gone were the children playing amidst the crowds, their collective laughter blending into a symphony of joy and life.

There wasn't much time to bemoan though. The air became a blur as Sonic raced through the labyrinth of streets and gradually our surroundings morphed into the unfamiliar. While in no way could Old Mobotropolis be described as a slum. As after all, though the streets were clean and the buildings in good repair during the days of King Acorn; Sally was never allowed to visit. Peering over his shoulder I could observe the Robotropolis garrison mobilizing. Buzz Bombers filled the smog-filled sky like locusts while an army of robots moved to cut off all avenues of escape.

"Behind you!" I called as Sonic ducked beneath an outstretched Robian arm. I wasn't exactly sure whether my advice was help or hindrance to Sonic's incredible speed and reaction times as he never complained. But after Sonic dodged the umpteenth bot, I realized something: we were no closer to the way out than we were a few minutes ago. "Sonic! Where are you going? We need out. Not in circles!"

The speedster seemed to snap alert. He assessed his surroundings., "What am I doing here?" he exclaimed. "Sorry, Sal. Must've spaced out. This way!" Sonic cranked a hard-left turn and picked up speed. We had wasted invaluable time. More and more of Robotnik's minions filtered from the factories, clogging up the streets and even the narrow alleyways.

"Um Sal, am I going crazy or did we wind-up right back where we were?" Sonic questioned. I looked at my surroundings. He was right. We were right back in the same area of boarded-up storefronts and cheap tenements with crumbling facades. Sonic slowed to a stop. I felt a cold chill. Something wasn't right. "No way," he whispered upon slowing to a stop.

"Is there something going on? Some new weapon of Robotnik?" I theorized.

"This makes no sense," Sonic began. "I was headed for –"

Then, I saw it; with some effort, a faint glow of light leaking from an alley. Working electricity? Here? It was a slim chance of finding good shelter and hunkering down till the search was called off. "Over here!" I got to my feet and sprinted over.

"Well, I'm outta ideas Sal. I guess yours is as good as any." the hedgehog shrugged and followed suit toward a nondescript tenement nestled between two larger buildings.

* * *

Mobotropolis is an old city, but not the oldest, not even the top ten. It's also a city with strictly limited space and had significant difficulty in sourcing materials suitable for construction. That means that a lot of Mobotropolis is built on top of and out of well ... Mobotropolis. There are a lot of things that result from this, and the sight before me was one of them.

The building before me had been partially dismantled, connected and incorporated with others to create a single larger structure. Sally had spent most of her life in the carefully designed maintained environs of the palace and the university. So, I could safely attest to have witnessed her first true experience with Mobotropolis architecture.

The end result was… disturbing. Doors were set into the wall at uneven intervals, their styles and settings wildly different. Some needed steps to reach them, others were flush with the floor. A few were actually off-kilter, the result of a settling building that hadn't been corrected when it had been folded into the new construction. However, it was clear that the light did not originate from any part of the long-abandoned tenement. Instead, it seeped forth from a narrow seam of bright-golden incandescent light from an unassuming brick wall Curiously, I felt my eyes kept sliding away as if some negative magnetism was at work to keep it hidden.

"Sal? What are we doing here?" the hedgehog asked, wearing a puzzled expression.

"No, can't you see it?" I pointed at the uncanny phenomenon.

Sonic scratched his head. How could he not see it? I knew this was important. Someone or something was drawing us here. Surely, they wouldn't want us dead. It would have been much less of a hassle to let Robotnik's minions finish the job. A missile exploded behind us. If the sound of marching robots didn't cue me in, the trembling alley certainly had. We were running out of time.

Lacking any available scientific method other than the empirical, I stuck my weapon experimentally into the seam of light. It felt like pushing against jelly. Then it pulled. Hard. I had to unsling my weapon before I was drawn-in myself and the seam swallowed the much larger weapon whole

"Whoa, did ya see that? Maybe it's some sorta portal," Sonic commented after he saw my weapon disappear into the seam.

I wanted to disagree with his assessment. If NICOLE were here she would have raved at my utterly reckless decision making. There were so many ways this could go terribly wrong, but we were out of options. I took the hedgehog by the hand and went in head first into the Great Unknown.

* * *

It's hard to describe the sensations experienced, but for a moment, I was neither here nor there … disembodied. Sally is a scientific person, and she knew that being conscious during teleportation didn't make sense. Especially since teleportation isn't so much a way to send someone somewhere, but rather to destroy the original and recreate a copy, perfectly complete in every detail. As to how long I spent in that state, I do not know. It could have been an eternity or a split second. It's hard to tell without any frame of reference. In any event, the next thing I was aware of was the feeling of my insides knotting up and dry retching on a hard-rocky floor.

Taking the moment to recover, I had plenty of opportunities to observe our surroundings. We were in an underground cavern; a shallow stream ran through the room, depositing into a cenote of clear sparkling fresh water. Behind us, the seam of light had disappeared, leaving only a smooth cave wall.

While there were no robots. I was on guard for any signs of our mysterious benefactor, but there was none, no reception awaiting us. What was more worrisome was our ability to see anything at all. The cavern should have been pitch-black without any discernible source of natural sunlight. Perhaps, the rocks here were coated with some sort of natural luminance to give the illusion of natural lighting.

Growing on the rocky outcrops above were clusters of glowing, unnatural looking purple fungus which bathed the ceiling of the cavern in an unearthly glow. While below grew strangely well-manicured plants which sprouted small berries. In spite of there being no trace of habitation in years, it was surprisingly well maintained, with no sign of intrusion, natural or otherwise. Clearly, there was nothing at all natural with the way the cavern was laid-out, however much its former ascetic inhabitant wished.

The walls of the cavern were left buck bare, with no tapestries or paint to cover the bare rock. In the centre of the room, a high full body oval mirror, rimmed with jewels, marked the room's sole opulent item. We had fresh water and a safe place to stay, the lack of safe food was going to be a problem. Luckily, I had brought some stale protein bars for such an occasion

"Want some?" Sonic asked, interrupting my observations with a fistful of berries.

"Gah!" I yelped in consternation as with no suspicion whatsoever Sonic popped one into his mouth, with a look of satisfaction plastered over his face. "Hey, those could be poisonous!" I cautioned.

"Hey, it's alright. They're blackberries. We have em all the time. Sides, we should celebrate gettin away from ole Buttnik. On the professional Smooth-Save-O-Meter, I'd say ya scored yaself a hundred! Way to go, dudette," Sonic said, giving me a congratulatory pat on the back and proceeded to pop another berry into his mouth. "Sides, this is some good grub."

I facepalmed. "This place is strange. Wouldn't a garden like this have overgrown or decayed with-out regular care? I imagine the water stream is seeping into the soil and sustaining them, but some of these plants wouldn't survive without sunlight either," I explained to him.

"Sal, only you could get sucked in by a magic portal and be concerned about the food on the other side," Sonic said through a mouth full of berries.

"Will you take anything seriously? We're stuck. Did you see any way out of this cave beside diving? You can't swim. So, I'll have to do it. "I sat down with a huff. Sonic put his hand around me and no matter how irrational it seemed, I calmed down and drew a deep breath. "Okay, there's got to be another way out. One that isn't immediately obvious."

Magic. The word felt foreign on my tongue. If push came to shove and we were unable to find an alternate way out. Meaning, I had to guage the depth. Knocking a loose stone into the hole, I counted the seconds till I heard a barely audible clink. It was deep, much too deep. My heart sank. The experience swimming in relatively well-lit pools and relatively calm streams was utterly worthless for such an endeavour. Involuntarily, I heaved a great groan of disappointment.

"We'll be stuck here for a while. Diving will be our last option after we've exhausted all other possibilities," I confirmed. He nodded knowingly before motioning for me to sit by him. I followed suit and proceeded to inspect the hedgehog for injuries. It was a ritual we practised. The hyperactive hedgehog sitting perfectly still and letting Sally fuss over him.

Sonic touched a hand to his waist. "Ya know Sal, you've got something, it's all tight and twisted and bottled up, right here." I slipped a hand into my vest pocket where the Acorn family ring sat in its usual spot and fingered the tarnished ring. "Ya used to take it off, ya know, put it on the nightstand and not worry bout it, but it's always there now, like a big ole anchor."

I peered deep into Sonic's olive-green eyes, examining him for injuries before replying. " Julayla, a friend of my mother gave it to me after I solved her challenge. She would hold a perfectly ordinary acorn over her head like so," I said, raising an arm high over my head to illustrate. "She said that I could have my mother's signet ring if I could take the acorn from her hand. She was much too tall for me to reach for it directly, but I did eventually figure it out shortly before-" My face fell and I resumed my inspection.

After a quiet minute of looking pensive, Sonic snapped his head up and blurted, "Look, I need to well, thank you, first. For getting us outta that sticky situation."

"You're welcome."

"I . . . yes. You jus seemed so angry. It's kinda disturbing. But I . . . well, I remembered what you're going through, and now it all makes sense. I should have realized it before."

I scoffed. "Realized what?"

"That I've been through the exact same thing. In fact, I think maybe I went through it just so I could be prepared. I'd wondered why it happened and what I was supposed to learn."

I paused my inspection. "What did you go through?"

Sonic continued talking "There's that one time when I became a knight in an alternate version of Mobius. I think it was like a test. To get me used at your way of seeing things." He said as I continued my inspection of Sonic's frontal body in silence.

"Huh, ya seem to be taking the dimension hopping thing in stride," he commented.

I moved my hands to the back of his head. "Not really, I've seen weirder. Hell, there was the time where our alternate evil selves dropped in. There were also several High School worlds; those got really weird. Mobius is like the Swiss Cheese of realities; it's got holes everywhere."

Sonic, eyes still on the ground, shuffled his sneakers on the rocky floor. "So I wanna want ya ta know that if you need to talk about problems like friendships or work or, um, relationships—"

I shook my head and snorted. "We're in a strange place and all you want to do is bring this up again. As opposed to ... I don't know, brainstorming a way out? I've no idea what you're insinuating Sonic." I squeezed my eyes shut and after a moment asked. "Did someone put you up to this?"

"Nah, can't ya jus appreciate that I'm doing this as a friend?"

"Please tell me you're joking." I shook my head again, sighed deeply and set my helmet down.

"I'm not. It's just if ya wanna talk bout anything that's got you bothered like, ya know, ex-boyfriends—"

Though outwardly my stoic expression remained unchanged I felt heat flush into my cheeks. "What's with the sudden interest in boyfriends?" I asked in a mellow tone.

"Moi think it's the perfect time to discuss this. You've always said how it's important to take a minute, a 'Sally-minute' and discuss things," he chided, rubbing thoughtfully on his chin "So what was he to ya? A fling? A one-night stand? A little twee dalliance?"

I leaned in close as though preparing to whisper some forbidden secret before running a hand through the stiff blue bristles of his back spikes until I was satisfied that he was unscathed save for a stray piece of linoleum which was embedded within a forest of quills. I kneaded my way through the forest of bristles and pulled it out, none too gently, and a few bristles came with it. "Owie, watch it," Sonic hissed.

"Who is she?" I asked.

The red in his face deepened, and he dipped his head almost to the ground. "It's like this," he said in a meek tone. "There was this other Princess who's really nice. And I just saved her kingdom and thought-"

"Damn," I cursed standing straight back up, "What's with you and royalty all of a sudden. It's like you`re a chick magnet for all those goo-goo-eyed damsels in distress."

"What? Sal, when I danced with Blaze, I was royalty, too. A talking sword said I was King."

"Sure, whatever. Hold still," I said as I grabbed a hold of Sonic's chin and ran a finger through his cheek. "Blaze, huh? Sounds like a minx. If you want my advice, stay away from her."

"Look, she's a cat. And what's a minx?" Sonic asked.

"Never mind," I snapped.

"Look, you don't even know Blaze."

"I don't need to."

Sonic backed out of my grip. "You're supposed to be like a Warrior Judge—a judge, which means you have to be fair-minded! You can't just say something like somebody you don't even know, ain't I right! How can you just say—?"

I bent down, put my hands on my knees so I could level with him. "I'm not your Princess Sally."

"Look, maybe I came on the wrong foot. Blaze isn't as much a girlfriend as a friend. If you'd let me explain—" Sonic began to say.

"I would, except I don't care, Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog," I said, cutting him off.

"Okay, fine, if he ain't bothering you, then what is it? I could feel anger coming off you like heat off a fire, and you try real hard ta make everyone else angry, too." The hedgehog cocked his head quizzically. "I've tried to give you a smile, but even a blockhead like me can see it didn't work out."

I could still feel anger simmering within, but I believed I had it under control. I took a deep breath and said, "Nothing can cheer me up. I'm sorry for taking it out on you. It's not your fault." But to my own ears, my words sounded mechanical and unconvincing.

"Whose fault is it?" he asked.

"Mine, but I can't tell you about it," I replied.

Sonic said quietly, "Uncle always said, some things have to be cut so they can heal."

Then the anger boiled up, and I exploded. Teeth clenched, my dented helmet clattered to the floor and I shouted, "Do you want to peel my life back like an onion? Flay off my skin and look inside?" I continued whispering, crossing my legs and rested my hands on my knees, "You don't want to know what I did in that cellar you understand? Just keep your fantasies of the tough 'Tomboy Warrior Princess', alright? You do not want the real Princess Sally, you understand?!"

He shook his head. "I wanna be your friend."

"I'm not your superlative friend," I said picking up my helmet, swinging, and tossing it into the cenote which created a loud splash. "I'm your commanding officer and I will win this war for us, but I am not your friend. I can never truly be your friend. Do you understand that?"

"No."

"And you never will, but that's the way it is," I said resignedly.

"No." he trembled. He shut his eyes as though gathering himself, and when he opened them again, he said, "Tell me what happened to you."

I clenched my teeth and stabbed his chest with my finger. "I told you—"

"You're not Princess Sally," he said and my blood froze. "You never were. You're Sal. Our Sal. There's no Princess Sally." He looked up, brow knitted., "But you wanna tell someone. It's eating you up." he sat back and crossed a gloved hand over his breast. "Cross my heart, what ya tell me will stay with me."

"So, 'Hero of Mobius'. Are you trying to be a confessor, too?" I asked.

"A what?" Sonic asked in reply.

"Never mind." I dropped to my knees, and put her hands on his cheeks and sniffled. "You won't be able to keep it to yourself anyway," I said. , Sonic remained silent, waiting as I swallowed down a lump in my throat and rested my arms on my lap. "And you do not know how much I've wanted—"

"I do."

I swallowed, considering. Memory. So much of what I am is based on memories that aren't mine. It sickens me to speak of them like my own, but who would I be if I not for Sally's memories to fall upon? I knew what this meant. I knew what I faced, but I knew also that she had already decided. Hesitation now was pointless. "Okay," I said. "I'll tell you."

* * *

Within the fireplace, the once proud and blazing inferno had begun to give way to soft, half-heart crackling. As it costumed the last of its meal, the fire began to slow, becoming lethargic, as though exhausted from burning. The light turned a deep orange before the leaping flames were reduced to smouldering embers crawling across blackened logs, like the last dying gasps of a living thing.

It's night. Knothole. I lay the floor in fetal position and clasping my hands above my head, counting the minutes to my next watch shift. In front of me were a fire poker, a thin layer of ash and a singed photograph where King Acorn stared back with a fixed grin. Pressed tightly against his form, a younger Sally looked up at him with unabashed love shining from her eyes. She beams with the smile of a daughter who thinks her father will always be there for her.

I whimpered and trembled in self-pity. Never before was I more acutely aware of my burden as the lynchpin of the war effort. It may have been self-adulation, but if I became compromised by fear, self-doubt and weakness, my friends would be left in a lurch. I had started the battle, and I would finish it. No matter the personal cost. No matter the unfairness of it all. A pathetic whine slips through a crack in one of the remnant logs. It reminded me of baby birds. Too hapless to do anything save for cry to their parents for nourishment.

"Sally Girl?" a drawl echoes through my room. Without loosening my hands clasped over my head, I stare wide-eyed at the southern belle. Her face unmistakably concerned as her basil green eyes sept across the room. She must have noticed the tears, the dying fire and the charred picture. Never before had I felt so naked. So exposed.

She had knocked. I'm sure that she did. Bunnie doesn't pay it much mind when her friend was slow to answer. She just went on in; assuming I would be hard at work as usual. It's not an altogether unreasonable assumption. Sometimes, Sally could be both blind and deaf to the world when she really got into something. Like the time NICOLE was able to download Robotnik's citadel schematics. She spent days in her study, formulating plans, strategizing. Only stopping for sleep and meals until eventually, Sonic had whizzed by to steal NICOLE, forcing an infuriated, bleary-eyed Sally to emerge blinking into the light, like a new-born pup.

"Bunnie," I whispered, rubbing one teary eye with my arm. "Didn't hear you come in." I sat up. My fingers trembled and my nose quivered and ran. My eyes flicked to the charred photograph and futilely reached over to pick it up. "I guess I must've knocked this into the fire. How clumsy of me…" I said in a futile attempt to inveigle the scene.

"Sally Girl," Bunnie snapped, "ya don't have to lie to me."

"What?" I asked, blinking back tears of self-pity.

For a second, I attempted to draw myself together. Like a mighty ocean-going trawler whose boom was reeling in shoals of thrashing fish. My fingers flexed in and out. My jaw squared. Our eyes locked, and the façade crumbled. I sniffed; just holding the broken frame my hands.

Bunnie sat beside me. Gingerly, rubbing my back with her regular hand. It was a playbook she developed to control her newfound strength. She had to be careful to get the balance just right – flesh for friends, steel for enemies. "Shush, Sally Girl." she murmured.

"But it's not okay, Bunnie. What if … what if he can't come home? What if I really lost him?" I asked her through my tears.

Bunnie swallowed. "That's a whole bunch of what-ifs."

I sniffed again. My chest convulsed as I held in a new wave of sobs. Bunnie rubbed my back harder, forcing my head onto her shoulder. Sally rarely accepted help unless she had specifically asked for it. We stayed that way for a long time. That she took it now must have caused her friend no small amount of worry. Bunnie waited for what seemed like an eternity, ready for me to howl in pain, shriek and rage at the unfairness, the indignity of it all. Gradually, my breathing evened out and I got to my feet. Just like that, I was back to normality or at least a semblance of it.

"Thanks, Bunnie," I said with a strained smile.

"Don't mention it," Bunnie took to her feet. "But don't you wanna take a day off? Let me pull a double-shift for ya. Ah'm stronger than ya. Ah can take it."

I cut her off. "Thanks for the offer, Bunnie, but I can't slack off. I need to set an example for the others. Now, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell the others about this." Sonic's on duty before me, and given half-a-chance he leaves before his replacement arrives." I made for the door but paused looking back.

"Thanks, Bunnie. Really."

"I'll help clean up here if ya don't mind," Bunnie offered.

"Would you? I'd be really grateful..."

* * *

I looked up at Sonic "I was twelve when the coup began, Tails was a toddler back then. I played with him until he was all tuckered out. I read him stories and lulled him to sleep with lullabies. He snored so softly afterwards and I thought to myself. 'This is heaven. This is what I want.'" I sniffled.

"I dreamt that, after we won, I would settle down with some nice, reliable guy, get married, and I would spend the rest of my life playing with babies." I smiled faintly and crossed my arms as though I were cradling something. "And Tails would always be my baby. He still is in some ways."

"At that age, I pictured the man I married looking a lot like Dad." I looked down at my hands and turned them back and forth: they were fine-boned and delicate like my mother's, but lined with calluses. "Dad told me I had to be smart. He said I had to be strong. He hired the best tutors money could afford and put me in gymnastics. But most importantly of all, he taught me to be tough. 'Don't cry, Bean,' he always said. When I made a mistake, he told me to pull myself up by my bootstraps. 'You're gonna do big things,' he said. 'Terribly big, and you need to be strong.'"

I stared into the sky. The tears ran freely down my cheeks, and for once I didn't bother to wipe them. For a moment, I choked, swallowed, found my voice, and added, "But then the day came when mum was killed by the Overlanders and Robotnik showed up." I closed my eyes, shook my head, and slapped the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was surprised to find Sonic's hands on my shoulders.

I leaned forward and tucked my head between my knees. "Have you ever known anyone, so towering, so . . . majestic . . . that you couldn't help but love, no matter what they did?"

After a moment, Sonic's voice barely audible, he whispered, "Yes."

"My dad wasn't a big man, and he towered over him. Robotnik had all the right words for him. He spun his yarn as a defector from his own people. He promised to deliver the tools of war to win against the Overlanders and soon he had dad looking up at him like a dog gazing at the master who feeds it. Robotnik made him look ridiculous, and he took him from us!"

He lowered himself down beside me. "I'm sorry."

"Sonic. I was happy. Just once. Just once in my whole damn life." I bent my head down. My vision blurred, and I could see droplets, glistening like jewels in the sunlight, falling to the grass.

I wipe my face. "When the coup seemed to be a short-lived affair, we would be the first to greet the new-comers. I hoped to see Elias again, but time after time, we came away disappointed. Geoffrey's parents were responsible for the evacuation you know. And one day, Geoffrey confessed my Dad ditched me." I chocked, breathing through my nose till the pressure on my ribs lightened. "I can't tell you at the time just how much I thought of myself as broken, defective, and flawed in some way. In some ways, I still do."

Sonic ran a gloved hand through his blue quills three times in quick succession. A storm of emotion ran through his face at once: surprise, amazement, and finally shame at my candidness. He looked indecisive before lowering himself down beside me. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head, sighed deeply, laughed and shrugged. "I gave up my dream a long time ago, Sonic. It was stupid. The world isn't nice enough to allow a reunion like that to happen. I was just a kid anyway. My dad was right about one thing though: I have to be tough. Big girls don't cry. If you're not tough, the world will chew you up and spit you out."

"I don't believe that," Sonic stated.

"Then you don't know. To survive, you have to be strong, and you have to rely on yourself."

"We rely on each other," he said. "Ya don't have to be all tough all by yourself"

"You remind me a lot about Nicole, you'd get along." I huffed.

"Who? Your lil' handheld thingy?" Sonic asked, confused.

"Just an acquaintance I used to know. She was a good person. But she'll talk your ear off about God." I replied.

"I don't know what that is," he said quizzically.

"I suppose, neither do I." I rose to my feet, taking a few deep breaths until my anger subsided and I felt my venomous thoughts blowing in the wind. "This never happened," I hissed., "Now let's start looking"

* * *

A change fell upon the hedgehog as I paced in pensive silence through the cavern. Searching for a way out. Back straight, eyes shut tight with anxiety, hands clasped behind; Yes, things were different, I thought. Sally is the reserved one and the hedgehog was the active, hyper one. This is the natural order of things, but for today, all order was thrown out the window. "Sal?" the hedgehog asked.

Abruptly as I began, I ceased wearing a trench through the centre of the cavern and flashed the hedgehog a sidelong glance. Had the events of the past few minutes not left me a veritable bundle of nerves I would have come up with some witty snipe that would highlight my acerbic wit. Sonic froze before my gaze, probably questioning his wisdom in attracting my attention.

"Sal, I know your hard on yourself," he began, "But ya make things better. Much better than they have any right to be. Ya were there for me when we got Uncle Chuck free."

I stare at the hedgehog conflicted. It terrifies me, nauseates me. Intellectually, Sonic would never be able to match me. It hurts at times, knowing that I will never have the relationship with him that I want; the one I hope to have. The one I deserve. I know I can never fully open up to him with my concerns, hopes and ambitions. When I attempt to start a deep and meaningful conversation with him, he laughs and teases me until I surrender to him physically. It hurts and yet… I love that we're in love.

"You remember that?" I asked.

"It was the first time I saw him in years. Ya knew the risks of bringing him home," Sonic choked. I knew it hurt him to remember. He never talked about his past. "Ya think ya did bad for us," he said, tenderly stroking my cheek with his finger, I didn't recoil, "but ya don't know how good ya make things."

"No," I said. "You can't compare my actions to what Robotnik did to your Uncle."

"Why? Ya the first person to do good for me, for us, since the war started," he said. "Ya make things better. Not perfect. But mondo good." He continued to stroke my cheek for a few minutes as I digested what he'd told me. I analysed what he was trying to do. Deciding his intentions were pure and that I should concede to him. I would be wrong to say I was better, I wasn't, but since then, I thought a lot about what Sonic told me, and why he had. My emptiness came from an unattainable expectation of perfection. Sally wasn't perfect. So, I shouldn't expect myself to be. I shouldn't assume I was worthy if I were perfect, nothing if I wasn't.

"So, where do you think we are?" Sonic asked snapping me from my introspection, his attention span for deep conversation ran out.

"Look, what makes you think I know more about this than you? Trust me, I'm just as confused as you are. If it helps. I know we're still somewhere in Mobius given we're still picking up signals from Robotropolis."

We worked on our hands and knees, rapping every solid surface and leaving no stone unturned within the primitive dwelling to find a secret passage. Till at last, I came before the mirror in the centre of the room. It had that patina of age over the bronze frame. Likewise, the surface of the glass was splotched black in places. I stood and stared at myself. The mirror showed me what the world saw, somehow it didn't seem right. Inside I was fireworks and rage and frustration, but all the world saw was the calm and composed Princess Sally. Perhaps I would take the mirror with me; it didn't belong in this old dump anyway.

Running a finger over the frame, I felt cool ridges and grooves and the layer of dust clinging to the surface. However, as soon as my fingers made contact, the surface of the mirror seemed to ripple like water. I withdrew quickly in shock.

"Say, Sal, you found something?" Sonic asked.

"I think it might be our ticket out," I replied.

"Say, ya recognize that?" Sonic asked, pointing at the back of the mirror.

I stooped over to take a closer look at the worn symbols on the back. Only two were barely legible. I traced the faded patterns of the first. Then, it clicked. The Royal House of Acorn. Just what would it be doing here in this forsaken cave? The other was much harder to decipher. I wracked my borrowed memories for anything to compare with but came up blank. Though I had the strangest sense of déjà vu.

Just then, a faint voice sounded somewhere among within the cavern, accompanied by a voice that faded in and out as if drifting on the wind. "Naugus. I know you're there." The voice was familiar somehow. I felt like I should've recognized it. I clenched my fists, bent my knees, and went up on the balls of my feet as I scanned the ceiling overhead.

"Who's there?" I demanded.

The voice came yet again. "Nagus? Don't you recognize me?"

"Err Sal? Who are you talking to?" Sonic asked.

"Shush. I can't see you," I called to the mysterious voice.

My eyes scanned the ceiling before falling upon the mirror. A faint violet mist seemed spilt forth from the mirror surface as it shimmered becoming translucent. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of another world beyond. A world of crystal. The lips on the figure seemed to move. But the noise didn't originate from the mirror. It was almost as though a ventriloquist was throwing his voice across the room. It was surreal. My knees wobbled. I dropped to the floor in panic as I clutched my head in distress. What was going on? This couldn't be real.

"Sal, what's going on?" Sonic asked, concerned. He followed my gaze to the mirror.

This time, his voice came nearer. Seemingly flitting about me. One moment, it spoke from over my shoulder and the next it whispered in my ear. All the while, the mist within the room grew steadily thicker. "I have wandered this forsaken place," said the voice which sounded increasingly deranged and most unlike any frame of reference my borrowed memories afforded. "I've found out you could escape when you previously could not with …"

Sonic kicked the mirror away. Breaking my gaze. It was like I had come out of a trance. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "What was all that about Sal?" Sonic asked with a worried look on his face. I don't respond and Sonic makes a grab for my arm. His fingers tighten around my wrist and at once my fragile mask of composure slips. Maybe if my nerves weren't so frayed. Maybe if the last person trying to grab hold of me wasn't trying to sell me to Robotnik, I wouldn't have given into the panic.

"Let me go, hedgehog!" I whimper hysterically.

"Nuh-uh Sal, not until ya tell me what's goin' on up there," he said.

"Let me go!" I begged and to my immeasurable relief, he released his solid, vice-like grip.

"Okay new rules. No touchieé till ya say otherwise," the hedgehog mumbled as I rubbed my wrist.

Taking a few moments to recover, I returned my attention to the mirror. As my fingers brushed across the surface I felt heat glow through my stiff fingers and into my wobbly arms. What happened next is almost impossible to describe, and surely impossible to comprehend for anyone who has not experienced it themselves. An explosion of images appeared in my head. I powered through the bombardment of images, filtering through them. Home, I thought; an image of Knothole appeared in my head. It seemed warm and welcoming.

"Step on through," I said in a flat tone. "I won't be joining you right away."

"Sal. I-... If this was about earlier again. I'm really sorry," Sonic began to say.

* * *

 _Sally was there when her mentor: Julayla, passed on. Somehow, it almost didn't seem real, similar to a waking dream. Time slowed and every detail was as clear and sharp as glass, but all the same, it was as incomprehensible as though reality has yet to set in. It's a moment when the world wheels chaotically about, and Sally realizes, 'She's still here...', but her mentor is not. The enormity of the change has yet to register. It's disorienting, like a capstone, fallen into the sea. There is a foreboding of terror and a sense of relief, knowing it's over, but uncertainty on where to begin._

 _Her final words were burned into Sally. Ingrained into her very being._

 _'Hush favoured one. There are to all things seasons and time is in short supply. You bear the mantle of leadership with honour and grace. Though you might have longed for other paths, the duties of your birthright could not be denied. From the first to the last, you have studied long and hard. Ever growing in knowledge and spirit, and as your teacher, I would have expected no less. An elegant solution. Such wisdom cannot be taught. It must be acquired. You are ready; farewell beloved one.'_

* * *

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"I guess I'm feeling a little lonelier tonight," I answered.

"Tonight, is almost yesterday Sal, and there will be many tomorrows ahead," Sonic said, he moved a hand to my shoulders to comfort me, but stopped there, remembering his earlier promise.

"Thanks, Sonic, it's okay," I said softly.

His expression morphs into one of hope. He expects me to change my mind and come home with him, but I was adamant. He takes a breath as though to protest before letting go, "Alright Sal … I trust you know what you're doing." I avert my gaze as he leaves through the mirror in a golden flash of light.

Next was perhaps the dumbest mistake I've made.

I went to the mirror. Altering its destination. She could see it so very clearly in the mind's eye. My bedroom. Sally's old bedroom back in the castle. It was pristine. Untouched by the ravages of the coup. Just like the day she had left it.


	10. Maudlin

**Maudlin**

This time, I was more prepared for the stomach-churning sensation of teleportation, but nonetheless, I still threw up the remains of a half-digested protein bar. Gosh, now I know just what clothes feel like when they're thrown into the dryer.

With blurry vision, I reached out for support and gripped a metal hand.

I gasped and staggered back in shock, only to be greeted by the stare of an unmoving Robian. I raised my weapon, pointing it first at one metal arm which held a cavalry sword raised in salute and the other where a large moulding yellow cape was draped over, but the Robian himself stood still, inert, like a suit of armour of aeons past, its eyes unlit.

Not functional.

Feeling emboldened by my turn of good fortune, my eyes flick across its familiar, stern, yet gentle features seemingly chiselled onto its frozen face. Then, an epiphany struck me. "Armand" I whispered. The former Acorn's Kingdom's top general, Antoine's Father, reduced to a mere coat hook.

A cold chill ran down my spine.

No, I mustn't succumb to despair.

Instead, I look around my surroundings, and found that this wasn't my bedroom. I wasn't sure what I'd be expecting, but it certainly wasn't this cavernous room. Had the mirror sent me to a different cavern? It was either Robotnik had made some major renovations since I had been there last or …

No, I recognized where I was: the former Ministry of Science Building, Robotnik's Citadel.

It had to be, for there was nowhere else in all of Mobius that held such sophisticated equipment; banks of the most advanced scientific machinery stood humming, whirring. The very nerve centre of Robotnik's operations. I thought about the potential damage I could inflict were I to fire blindly, attempting to destroy as much as I could. No, that was a terrible idea. Robotnik could always replace his machines. Keep calm. Remember what you are here for. Bunnie's medicine.

I heard muffled echoes of screams ringing down the hallway.

My armour gave me a slightly bulkier appearance than usual. Perhaps, if I moved slowly, robotically, I would pass for a menial Robian worker. No, that wouldn't work, unless. My eyes fell upon the tattered cloak. Yes, that could work. I could use it as a shawl, obscuring any distinctive features that would give me away. I gingerly extricated the tattered old thing from the frozen Robian.

I felt a strong sense of guilt as I wrapped the cape around myself. "Sorry sir, but I need this a lot more than you," I whispered to the gravely still form of the General. It felt like robbing from the dead. As I did so, I felt a cold clink of metal against skin. Reaching into the pocket, I extricated a war medal from it; it was tarnished and could use a little cleaning. As I traced my fingers along its distinct eight-pointed Maltese cross-shape, I knew it was important to Antoine. Had to get it home.

Examining myself, I had confidence that my ensemble would resemble a bot at least from a distance, while shrouded in shadows. I moved in long confident strides, building up the character of a Robian and headed for the screams. Screams meant Mobians, and Mobians meant medicine. Hopefully.

Surely, Robotnik would make sure his test subjects were healthy before they became his automatons. Injuries were accumulated before capture. Injuries that would be a detriment to their servitude, and as numerous as the Robians were, they were still a precious commodity.

I heard screams again. This time louder. Closer. Sweat crept across my brows. Remember why you're here. I twiddled my fingers. I felt my knees tremble. Yes, I'm afraid, but not as afraid as returning to Knothole empty-handed. Not as afraid of the fallout when news of Bunnie's ailing health broke.

Taking a deep breath, I breached the threshold of hell.

* * *

It was horrible. Stolen schematics and blueprints provided by NICOLE afforded me nothing in the way of anticipating its scale. It was more massive than I could possibly imagine. My mind took a moment to process what it was seeing: Prisoner Processing.

There, the possibility of rescue ended and where the certainty of eternal servitude to the mad Dictator began. What made it somehow worse was that only a tiny portion of the cavern was filled. About a hundred cages were there. Stacked in places three or four deep and guarded by a substantial number of SWATbots. Just how many had there been during its 'heyday'? My mind swam with unbelievable numbers and nightmarish calculations.

Within the cages were members of the 'Wolf Pack Nation'. I had heard rumours of them. They were a semi-nomadic resistance group based further North in the 'Thunder Plains Zone', former members of a protected reservation. They were hardy, but now, their luck had run out. Then I spotted a Red Cross at the far corner of the room: medicine, medicine for Bunnie.

I made my way across the cavernous chamber. I stuck to the sides, trying to be stealthy. Stay focused, stay tunnel-visioned. Staying blind to the plight of the captives. I almost made it half-way across when I heard it.

"Good child. Things won't be so scary with grandpa here"

"Diablo, you have a funny name."

"I know that Aerial, you remind me every day."

Here, it wasn't just the wailing cries, terrified screams, begging, rationalizing, howling, blood and torture that tore a hole at my soul. My sensitive ears could pick up the comforting voice. A thick veneer over mounds of disgust and terror. I slow my gait involuntarily. I had to see. I turn my head to the cage.

Ten feet away was a large metal cage. Insulting, demeaning, like a kennel. An inhuman thing made of wrought iron bars. Inside were a half dozen Wolf Pack warriors having their arms stretched through the bars. Screaming, crying and threatening, but behind them an older Wolf was coddling something unusual: an Overlander Child. "How many is this Aerial?" Diablo asked holding up his outstretched hand.

A scream rings echoes out from across the chamber. I shudder. A she-wolf had attempted to break free from her captors and was shocked for her trouble. Even from this far away, her moans and defeated cries could be heard, like an animal certain she's about to die. Aerial whimpered, craning her head to find the source of the disturbance. But Diablo gently touches her cheek and turned her back.

"How many fingers is this Aerial?" Diablo asks.

Aerial's lower lip trembles. I could smell her fear. It was like a poison spreading, saturating. But Diablo was keeping the Overlander safe and distracted in a small bubble of affection.

"Three fingers."

"Three, yes three. What comes after three?"

"Four"

"And what comes after Four?"

"Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine and Ten". The child answers; her lower lip no longer trembling.

"Clever girl"

The Overlander pressed her cheek against the wolf, shutting her eyes tightly. As Diablo kept her contained within his arms. I didn't know what to do. My mouth was agape. I ducked behind the shadow cast by the cage.

"Stay out of the way, Mobian. You. It's your turn." Two SWATbots had stepped into the cage, seizing the older wolf by his hands. He growled but goes peacefully with his captors.

"It's alright I'll take care of her," said a blue-tinted wolf.

"Monsters!" a pinkish female shouted, rushing at her SWATbot captor and immediately I smelled sizzling flesh and burnt hairs from a low-intensity stun beam. "Just you wait. The Freedom Fighters. They'll be back. And it'll be your turn! Sonic will turn you into a pile of scrap." she coughed out, slowly rising to her feet.

"Lyco shut the hell up!" the imposing wolf calls as he wraps his muscular frame around the Overlander child protectively. The SWATbots slammed the cage shut locking it with a simple padlock. Just padlocks. I could break them easily. The wolf jerked his head, but I slip back into the shadows, breaking eye contact. I saw the SWATbots dragging a thrashing but quiet Diablo away to his fate.

I had to do something. Anything. The reach of Robotnik was incredible. Hundreds of Wolf Pack warriors were here. How many were already processed? Nausea flared through me, guilt ebbed through my veins. The Red Cross. Just sitting there a few dozen feet away. "Bunnie" I repeated, reminding myself why I was here, "You're here for Bunnie".

I heard a strong inner voice as though Sally herself were speaking to me. "Couldn't you do both? Get the medicine first, then free as many as you can." What medicine should I be looking for? I didn't know. I should've been better prepared, but then again, I never expected to get this far.

"Oh, Bunnie," I whimpered. "I'm an idiot."

 ** _Wouldn't you even try?_ **The inner voice prodded again.

No, if I try to do both, I shall attain neither. I know these decisions. My life is defined by these decisions. I turned to the cages. At a stretch, I could free perhaps three or four before the SWATbots would hear the commotion and investigate. Who should I free? I thought of Tails. My heart cried out for the pups. My mind with its cold-hearted logic told me to save the adults. They were easier to organize. My guts screamed a combination of the two. To give the adults something to fight for. In the end, did it truly matter who I freed?

"What would Bunnie do?" I asked myself. 'Go, Sally Girl' she would say. 'Cause as big a ruckus as ya can. Give em all the chances ya can to live free.' "I will Bunnie" I whispered under my breath as I slunk towards another cage.

"Who are you? If you're a Mobian. Help us please!" an older female wolf with a crocheted shawl asked when she saw me.

"A friend," I remarked. "But only a temporary one."

"It's Princess Sally!" one of the older ones gasped. Of course, her face was instantaneously recognizable.

"Shush, please shush," I begged so they wouldn't give the game away.

The resulting silence was deafening. In spite of the dozens of hopeful eyes tracing my every movement, I felt like I could hear a pin drop. My heart sank. This was a mistake. It would be a slaughter. I couldn't save anyone. Should have done the smart thing. Backing out, ignoring their plight, but I couldn't.

"Quiet all of you. I'll need your help. Hide me while I work."

At once the caged captives obeyed and stood-up, obscuring the view of the patrolling SWATbots. I would free three cages to satisfy Sally's, no, my conscience. With a pause, I dialled the setting on my weapon backwards. Aiming it at the padlock before slicing it away with a short pulse of fire. I winced at the noise, bracing the wrought iron cage as it gave way much quicker than I thought it would.

"Hold it steady, be quiet. Arm yourselves, if you can. Free more, if you can. Raise as much hell as you can." I hissed slowly at the caged victims. Making sure to repeat my instructions several times so they got the message. The pups among them nodded; having such hope, misguided hope, but hope nonetheless of their incompetent rescuer.

"Wait, let me free a few more before you open the door, do you hear me?" I glanced around and saw a cage with the Overlander child who watched my movements wide-eyed. "Them," I hissed. "When I free them, open the door." Collectively, they nodded. I turned to a different cage whose occupants had already stood-up in anticipation to shield me while I worked. Good, two down, one more to go.

A mechanical voice gurgled "Alert loose prisoner. Exercising restraint protocols!"

I broke the lock on the third cage. "Do it! Do it now!" I cried. Three cages exploded forth simultaneously, their wild angry, desperate inhabitants spilling forth. A trio of SWATbots spun around to assess the new threat. I fired into one, straight into centre-body-mass. It staggered, spraying sparks but remained standing. At least, until Lyco struck the bot with a length of pipe causing it to fall over. The remaining two turned. I squeezed the trigger. It didn't respond. I abandoned my weapon and ran.

"Restrain the prisoner" another SWATbot gurgled. I was already running, but my previously sustained injuries slowed me down. The SWATbot leapt on my back and restrained me. Twisting my arms back painfully and forcing me to face my mechanical captor. "Facial recognition ... Leader of the designated group 'Freedom Fighters;" the SWATbot began in its horrible monotone voice.

* * *

I didn't look back. I think the escapees got two more cages free. I believe some were shot and killed and others made it to the doors, but none escaped: this I know for certain. Soon, the SWATbot received more support to restrain me. Then I was yanked painfully to my feet, and dragged before a long winding metal staircase all the way to a glass office at the very top.

A flash of images and ideas burned through my mind: Regrets, Denials, Ideas, and most of all, Fear. This was more than personal regret. It was a deep and adroit sense of failure. My people's leaderless because of my impulsiveness and recklessness. My wretched placing of my friends concerns over all else and out of what? Some arbitrary obligation which was never really mine to begin with? I remembered how I had started my diary in the hopes of helping future generations know what sort of person I was. Now, I wanted it burnt. Burnt and reduced to ashes. My people wouldn't want to know how their fearless leader was crying. Crying over her foolishness and stupidity.

I sat still, chained to a chair.

Him I wouldn't beg anything from. Even though that was the only thing I wanted. I wouldn't beg at all. I may have lost my ability to think rationally, but I wouldn't lose my dignity. The SWATbots observed my every movement. I tried to think of any method of escape that I had. There was nothing. Since I had sent Sonic away there was no reasonable hope of getting a rescue attempt going in time. My captors would kill me before I could go ten paces. I wanted to give-up. I wanted to despair, but then I remembered something I read once, a long time ago:

 _I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is a little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me. And when it has gone past I will turn my inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain._

The fear was eating me alive. Feeding on every ounce of willpower and intellect I possessed. My mind was my only weapon, but without it… I heard feet behind me. I recognized the distinct heavyset footfalls on the stairs behind me. I swallowed back a whimper, a moan, anything that would give away my inner weakness. I clenched my kegel and bowels to stop from urinating or defecating myself. I sat as stiff as I could while trying to remain relaxed as possible. Though it was impossible to achieve both.

"Hello, Ivo Julian Kintobar," I said as I gave my best nonchalant smile to calm my raw nerves _. I must not fear._

"Did you have the mobile roboticizer brought in?" I heard his booming voice behind me, causing me fight back a whimper. _Fear is the mind killer._

"No Master, we were certain you wanted to interrogate the designated leader of the 'Freedom Fighter' band yourself." a mechanical voice gurgled. _Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration._

"It's good then that you metal buckets did something right once in a while." _I will face my fear._

He stepped before me, regarding me patronizingly. The first thing I noticed was the scent of rancid breath. The next was his cruel sneer which exposed swollen gums and rows of misshapen yellow-stained teeth. Mostly though I remember his bald, conical head, dark orange moustache and black eyes devoid of any hint of warmth and compassion. The former Minister of War leaned over me, orange jump-suit stretched taut over his enormous girth _. I will face my fear._

"Oh yes, it will bring me great joy indeed." His face twisted into a joyous grin as though Christmas had arrived several months early and he didn't even need to break the legs of one of Santa's elves in order to get precisely what he'd wanted.

"You should be grateful, Kintobar, they didn't roboticize me straight away." Somehow, even though my mind was in turmoil, my voice retained its surety, its vigour.

"Whatever did you mean princess?" the dictator asked curiously, clasping his hands together in almost childlike excitement.

"For if they did, you would get a corpse," I announced triumphantly.

"She sure doesn't speak like the princess," Robotnik noted, rubbing the day-old stubble on his pudgy chin.

"What was this one doing?" he asked, turning to his robotic bodyguards.

"Freeing prisoners. Shooting her way through padlocks. Her actions freed five cages resulting in the loss of three units, one by her own hand. All escapees neutralized, " one of the Swatbots replied.

"Padlocks?" Robotnik stood back with a jump. "We still secure prisoners with padlocks?"

"Master Robotnik, with the dismantlement of the freedom fighting band designation 'Wolf Pack' our force field cages were stretched beyond capacity. As per your directives we have defaulted to less power intensive alternatives for storage."

"Get out of my office!" he roared, flecks of spittle spraying in all directions.

The SWATbots filled-out in a hurry apparently out of some pre-programmed self-preservation instinct. In spite of appearances, the dictator possessed a fair bit of muscle beneath his bulk. Had they stayed another moment they would surely been smashed in his all-consuming rage. He paced back and forth, regarding me with great curiosity.

I kept my eyes securely fastened on him. My breathing slowed. My fear left me. Either because I had accepted my fate, or because I had the blossoming seed of an idea. The dictator turned back to me, before wrapping his roboticized appendage around my neck, far quicker than someone of his size should've been able to, but this didn't faze me. I was more than a mere 'criminal' now. I was a curiosity. If I knew the dictator well, he would have his curiosities satisfied before he pulled my head off my shoulders.

Gingerly, he ran a mechanical finger across my cheek. I could practically see the wheels turning within his soulless eyes. I knew that with one sweep of his powerful hand, he could reduce me to a pulp. I fought hard not to give in to every one of my feral instincts. The ones that told me to run, to beg and cry for mercy. His nostrils flare, and he flicks a tongue over his dry cracking lips, much like the forked tongue of the proverbial serpent. It was almost as though he could practically taste his victory now, sweet as ambrosia.

"Why don't you speak like the Princess?" he asked in a gentle mocking tone.

"Because I'm not her, Ivo Julian Kintobar."

His eyes broke into a mocking sneer "Impressive princess, you did your research."

"No, not research at all, my old colleague," I said as I smiled and leaned closer.

"Who are you?" Robotnik asked, with just a hint of confusion his voice.

"You never were an observant one, my old colleague, but this time I don't blame you. As after all, I look vastly different from when we last met. I'm Ixis Naugus." I said in a bemused tone. If he didn't buy my deception the rest was superfluous.

"Oh princess, you're sneaky. How did you come across that name?" he hissed.

Would he know just how much the Sally knew about obscure lore? Not very much. What I knew was gleaned from faded memories buried deep into the recesses of the mind and half-remembered snippets of conversations. If my deception was to be successful, I had to make-up the rest on the fly. "Because it was given to me by the Order of Ixis."

"What's your game princess? No … wait, I won't bother. Why am I wasting my time discussing with this flea-bitten animal?". I cringed at the sound of that, but my blood froze as he tapped a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet "Have the mobile Roboticizer brought up" he bellowed.

"Oh, old friend, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"And why not?" he retorted.

"Surely, you're aware I've taken precautions prior to our meeting. Attempt the procedure and my fail-safe spells will kick in, netting you a corpse." Yes, if I kept stalling, this could work.

A knock on the door to the office and a SWATbot emerges carrying one of the dreaded single-use devices. "Master Robotnik, here is the Mobile …"

"Leave, at once" he ordered. The SWATbot seemed confused, if such a thing was possible before backing out. As much as I wanted to. I didn't let the immense sense of relief and gratitude show on my face. "Let's say I believe you. For no 'Freedom Fighter' would be would be so bold nor have so specific knowledge from the past. Especially that name … unless that fool of a King told his daughter."

I swallowed deeply. Did he know? Robotnik glared at me for the better part of two minutes, while I stared pleased and polite at him.

"Something smells rotten in Topeka." the dictator growled, each and every syllable uttered with pure distilled malice. "But let's say I humour you … Naugus. How did you get the princess's body?"

"The power of the arcane is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be ...unnatural. Whilst my physical form did indeed atrophy and die in exile within the Zone of Silence, my essence was preserved and my vessel established a pact with me. In exchange for assisting the 'Freedom Fighters' with my 'magic' she allowed me to pursue my cause through her as a proxy."

"What is this cause you speak of?" the dictator asked curiously.

"Why, within the 'Freedom Fighters' I am venerated as a living god. A living god requires subjects. I owe a feudal contract to attend to their wellbeing," I elaborated, gesturing to the caged prisoners. "I consider it my moral imperative to stop incursions into my domain and to free more potential subjects."

"That's it? You desire a fief?" the dictator asked incredulously.

"I suppose yes, a place where I may reign uninterrupted will suffice for now," I confirmed.

The dictator looked me straight into the eye. "This explains your outlying forays then. Little more than pin-pricks in the grander scheme of things. Then why come here, Naugus?"

"Can't I visit an old colleague to make him an offer?" I beamed at him.

The dictator guffawed. "Naugus, surely you're aware I hold all the cards. Just what do you have that-" the dictator began, stroking his chin thoughtfully before a malicious grin spread across his lips. "Oh yes, the hedgehog. I would gladly provide your freedom in exchange for that blue pest."

"I don't think so, Kintobar. I've a different offer in mind. I offer freedom. Freedom from political unrest. And I know how vulnerable you are especially at a time like this," I smiled smugly.

"Political upheaval from who precisely? My enemies have all fallen beneath my boot heel. Who exactly are you referring to that can threaten me now?" he asked perplexedly.

"I wasn't referring to your external enemies. I'm referring an enemy closer to home, a Kintobar."

"I assure you Naugus, I'm not one to sabotage my own operations," his smug smile faltered before morphing into a frown.

"You've doubted it yourself. Haven't you? But of course, having known you for years I know you are short tempered. It clouds your insights and judgement, but surely, you`re no fool. A mysterious uptick of industrial accidents, far more than a mere statistical anomaly would suggest? With seemingly no interventions from the 'Freedom Fighters'?" I suggested.

"You know, most of the time prisoners aren't quite so chatty. Nor do I usually indulge them so. You have my rapt attention, Naugus. That is a privilege extended only to a select few." He replied with his rancid breath.

"Your nephew. What was his name? He was always so unassuming. Colin Kintobar," I recalled at last.

Robotnik raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, they are inconveniences, nothing more. My nephew Snively possess no threat to my operations."

"But he was in the past, wasn't he?" I added with a smug smile. "You forget old colleague that I'm a master of magic. Snively has been begging me for weeks now for me to active his contingency plan: a traitor robot. Implanted within your ranks to assassinate you at an inopportune moment." Good. If I kept feeding the dictator's paranoia. This might work.

Robotnik flings his arms up in exasperation. "The security bots in this citadel are programmed by me and me alone. It's impossible for my treasonous nephew to insert a 'Trojan Horse' within my ranks!"

"This is where Snively requires my assistance. It could well be inserted during the commotion from a 'Freedom Fighter' raid," Robotnik frowned in deep thought. I had him on a hook. "You underestimate his ambition. Misguided and ill-planned as it is. As much as he hates to admit, your nephew requires my help, and by extension the 'Freedom Fighter's help, to achieve his goals: your overthrow and disposal," I smiled.

He frowned. "And what would my Nephew's desire be in allying with the 'Freedom Fighters'? He would sooner grovel, trusting in my benevolent nature rather than those he wronged so. This is a ridiculous story, princess. I'm through listening to them, as amusing as they've been." Robotnik drew his personal firearm, a pistol: a holdover from his days as Minister of War and pointed it between my eyes. "You've been my most interesting appointment in some time, but I'm not sad to see you go."

I chill of fear crept up my spine. "Wait," I cautioned. You haven't heard my offer yet. I will keep your nephew safe with us. He'll be out of your -" I began to say, but then I noted the Dictator's baldness "-sensitive operations."

"So, I'm expected to count on your word. That my conniving, treacherous nephew will live and that you will ensure his safety?" he said incredulously.

I nodded "Yes, it's either that or keep an eye open while you sleep". Timorously, I reached up. Gently brushing my fingers around the muzzle of the Dictator's firearm. Much to my surprise, he obliged, replacing it into his holster with one smooth motion.

"I always do," he sneered while leaning forward to level with me.

"But now with your nephew out the way, you won't need to think about it," I hissed. He was securely in my trap now. A place where he was caught between his fiery temper and begrudging acceptance of his own mortality and fallibility.

"What was your purpose in forging an alliance with him in the first place? Surely, you know how perilous that is? My nephew is conniving, treacherous and diabolical. He would sooner admit to his wrongdoings to me than ally himself with you," the dictator questioned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I assure you, the intelligence he has provided is a two-way street until recently. Some of which we've applied with devastating impact. Others, I file away for future use," I stared at Robotnik. Would he stop to question our sources? Did he know that between NICOLE's ability to break even the most secure firewalls and Sir Charles's on-site intelligence gathering, we had unearthed a veritable treasure trove of intelligence?

"So, he's outlived his usefulness to you, Naugus," Robotnik concluded, tenting his fingers.

I relaxed as he bought my deception hook line and stinker. "Now, striking a deal with you will prove far more valuable to me that the information he is able to provide," I confirmed.

He considered for a moment, staring at the ground in deep thought "Just what did he offer you, Naugus? I know many ways of making a Mobian squeal. I can squeeze whatever information he provided from you and so much more than that too."

I smiled, "Kintobar, if I'm forced to sacrifice the princess to keep information out of your hands, it's a necessary evil. A massive inconvenience certainly, since I would have to start all over again, working my way up the ranks of the 'Freedom Fighters' and gaining their trust. A process that would set me back weeks in filling the vacated position."

He met my gaze "Then what's to stop you from reneging on your terms then? What's stopping you from desiring more than the Great Forest?"

"The word of a wizard has always been historically more valuable than that of an Overlander, Kintobar. I will give you the same answer I gave to my former employer King Maximillian when I was his court wizard almost a lifetime ago." Taking a moment to compose myself, I continued "I care little for these new-fangled notions of state and governance. Instead, I shall personally rule over my subjects who venerate me as a living god. The only person who can ensure their continued safety."

"So, why don't I martyr you right now?" he asked while levelling his weapon once more at my forehead.

I didn't flinch.

"Firstly, if I were not the princess, I would not have the sway necessary to guarantee your nephew's safety in exile. Secondly, losing this body would be a mere inconvenience. Thirdly, I would pay you another visit knowing my peaceful overtures have failed. And this time, as opposed to seeking amends. I would be seeking revenge," I elaborated, my steely gaze never once leaving his soulless eyes.

"So what price would you name? I assume granting you leave from my domain will prove insufficient, " Robotnik asked. His tone, dare I imagine it was genuinely courteous as though he regarded me as a genuine threat. No, an equal. A cold chill washed down my vertebra.

"My price is high, Kintobar. Much higher than the mere offer of safe passage. Only a generous tribute would do to cement a truce between us and guarantee the safety of your nephew in exile among us."

"You know Naugus, you have quite the unique privilege of wronging me, getting caught and leaving with my gratitude," Robotnik smiled a mad genuine grin. "What do you want?" Somehow, I had him wrapped around my pinkie. I could ask for anything I desired … Bunnie's medicine even.

No, my shoulders unconsciously slumped. I had managed to paint myself into a corner. If I truly were the enigmatic court mage I would surely have the power to heal my subjects. If I had asked for medicine my lie would be laid bare. There was only one thing I could ask for. The only thing Sally's … my conscience would allow. Through this venture, I had discovered my true allegiance.

Just how many allies could I free? How many would make the unpredictable Dictator shoot me in frustration and what figure would make him wish I didn't ask for more? I settled at a particular number that Sally kept close to her heart. "Thirteen," I said forcefully, the number lost on raids plus one. "You will free thirteen Mobians and your machines will depart from the Great Forest."

"You will walk with eight. Or not walk at all," he declared looking me straight into the eye, willing me to back-down. I glared back. I had gotten this far. Nothing would stop me now.

"I'm not leaving till I see my thirteen Kintobar. Do not test my patience."

"Done. Thirteen is nothing to me Naugus, and if I hear of any more sabotage, or any more guerrilla attacks on my operations. Anyone of the hairs on my nephew's head harmed. I'll come for you."

"I assure you, Kintobar. You can rest easy. Neither your nephew nor the 'Freedom Fighters' will ever threaten you again. "However," I took a deep breath. "The 'Freedom Fighters' have secured a wealth of information through him." I added. "That is safely kept hidden among my personal effects and a number of small caches to which I alone am aware of. I consider this deal to be our first, and last. I promise you that henceforth I will never again disrupt your operations." I stared him in the eye "But if you decide to pursue me, to tear open every cavern, every tunnel in search of our underground home I will use Snively's plans. All of them and every iota of my arcane might to smite you."

My deception held. I smelt fear. Just a hint of it. I felt so very smug as I put my hands up in a non-threatening fashion, as far as my chains would allow "But I assure you: so long as you remain outside of our affairs. You have no reason to fear me or for the life of your nephew."

Robotnik smiled. A cruel mockery of a grin that stretched from one corner of his lip to the other. "Enjoy your dreams of ruling your little corner of Mobius, Naugus. A word of advice old friend. You may find some dreams are meant to be ... broken. I'll devise a means to protect myself from your 'magic' and when I do? I'll come for you."

"Good. I'll get ready. Till then, unchain me so I can get on with my business," I demanded. Robotnik obliged, reaching behind the chair and snapping the chains apart with his roboticized appendage. For a moment, I imagined the harsh grating noise to be flesh, blood and sinew tearing.

The chains clatter to the floor.

* * *

I neither waited around nor looked back. Instead, I stride confidently away past row after row of SWATbots who regarded my presence, but did not impede my progress, leaving the dictator without any opportunities to change his mind. Out of the dictator's sight, a sight of my own gave me pause: a SWATbot holding the Mobile Roboticizer. It wouldn't be as good as the real deal, but getting that back home would mean a chance set our people free. I'm on a roll, so why stop now. I turn to face the SWATbot who stood still, stiff as a statue; its hands maintaining a stiff grip on the handheld device. Mentally preparing myself for retaliation, I coiled up my thigh muscles and lightly bumped the bottom of its hand, snatching the device from the air.

 _Just like Julayla and the acorn._

Never did I think I would be glad to have the unspeakable thing ensconced within my hands. The very thing that ought to make me sick to the very bottom of my stomach. From the very bottom of my heart, I loathed it for what it's larger counterpart had done to countless innocent Mobians, but this evil abomination may yet be turned to good.

The robot stares, but makes no attempt to retrieve the device from me. Compelled by Robotnik's instructions to treat me as an honoured guest.

 _You tested me and gave me guidance for the last time, and I was alone, so very alone, but the signet ring you gave me, handed down by Mom, told me I had the strength to go on. Thanks, Julayla._

I went through Command Central, retrieving my fallen weapon where it lay and gazed at my newly freed allies and my new hostage dragged over by SWATbots. In spite of the earlier mistreatment, they are formidable warriors. They view me with equal parts suspicion, amazement, confusion and apprehension.

Though the majority of them are older adults, I'm glad. They have plenty of combat experience, making a difference in the fights ahead. I ought to feel victorious. I ought to feel invincible having defeated the dictator with little more than my glib tongue. Sonic would be proud. Yet, my victory feels so very hollow. All I can imagine is telling everyone I had failed.

It was difficult keeping them quiet in spite of their desire to celebrate and to find out what lies ahead. For my part, I inform them that Knothole would be everything they thought it to be. Home, a place to rest and recuperate. I couldn't give away too much. Had to maintain character before the surveillance orbs that constantly monitored my every word.

Snively, however, is not so fortunate. He sits beside me. A nasty welt rises over his left eye by a failed escape attempt from a SWATbot. At times, the diminutive Overlander attempts to pry answers from me. Him I have no patience for. He would only get either monosyllabic answers or a stony stare where his questions warranted a longer answer.

Introductions complete, we set-off for home...


	11. Cry Of The Wolf

**Cry of the Wolf**

Dawn broke over Mobius, bestowing shimmering rays of rosy pink and sandy yellows over a placid stream. Marking its path as it meandered through a meadow of thin and translucent grass which swayed gently in the breeze. The last beautiful spot before the dust, metal, and filth of Robotropolis began. It was pristine, perfect. Almost like a work of art stuck in a junkyard. I let the thought sink in as nascent rays touched skin, soothing my core.

I thought maybe I would stay awhile to rest. Look at Robotropolis. Sally knew it wasn't good for her either physically, with all the smog in the air, or mentally. But that was her duty. The Freedom Fighters and her would be the ones to retake Robotropolis. After all, they had all lived there once before and they possessed the drive to reclaim it. Just not today or even tomorrow. But someday soon. Hopefully this time with a few extra allies in the fight.

But I find myself not being the only one looking back. Snively maintains a sojourn by himself, gazing forlornly at the city which had been his personal demesne only yesterday. There's a perverse sense of karmic justice at play, for him to have been doled out a similar fate to what his Uncle and he inflicted upon us all those years ago. Curiosity getting the better of me, I followed his gaze to the skyline once celebrated by travellers, now feared and hated by all who laid eyes upon it. I wondered if liberation would ever rid the stigma Robotnik had imposed upon it. Then I saw where Snively's eyes really rested, Command Central. "It was my home," Snively mouths as he stares, blinking back a wellspring of tears.

There's an old saying from Mobius's darker, less-civilized past: To torment someone, take them to paradise and let them enter through its gates. Then take them away to the darkest pits of Tartarus. For not only will they suffer the pain of the flesh, but the agony of knowing what they almost had.

Like so many others, I had disregarded the saying as an 'old wives' tale' when I first heard of it. Only now do I realize how true it really is. My deft tongue ended his career, resulting in abandonment by his all-powerful patron and his overnight demotion from 'penúltimo' of Robotropolis to prisoner of the Freedom Fighters.

But what I felt wasn't vindication. No, nothing could vindicate what Snively did. Even if he repented. Even if he recanted every seditious word that passed through his lips. Even if he confessed every bit of skulduggery. Even if he dedicated every waking moment of every day to making restitutions to his innumerable victims. It wouldn't be enough to shift even one granule of blame from his litany of crimes.

"Yeah, mine too," I whispered under my breath. As strange and disgusting as it seemed, I could empathize with his position. I could muster a twinge of pity, albeit one that was buried deep within a healthy heap of disgust. Especially so when I recalled that accursed spire had once been his home of many years. It's odd when Snively and his Uncle existed only as tokens on the planning board. I had only thought of them with cold, stony-hearted detachment. They were the enemy, after all, an obstacle to overcome. But here, given flesh and form, I had to actively remind that in spite of his cowed appearance, Snively was not a refugee, a victim like the rest of us, but a perpetrator to crimes no sane Mobian mind could comprehend.

The grass rustled from a gust of wind, bringing with it a slight hint of an oily, smoky smell that was Robotropolis. It reminded me of everything. Where I was, who I was, and who he was.

No, it wasn't his home I thought. Beasts and monsters like him don't have nice homes like us. He was a flint-hearted devil, seneschal to the greatest villain in all of Mobius. He was the enemy first and foremost. Utterly irredeemable, wicked, and cruel. He would betray us all without hesitation if it meant a reasonable shot at getting back into his Uncle's good books. I have to get this crystal-clear even if I needed to dehumanize his position.

"Take a picture," I stated flatly. "It'll last longer you know?"

At my longest line of dialogue thus far, Snively broke his gaze from the skyline and stared taciturn at his feet where he remained so long that I nearly repeated myself. Until finally, his face scrunched up in vexation and he looked up, pouting. "I hate you," he spat in a nasal tone. "You've ruined me." His voice grew softer and strained like someone had struck him in the gut. "I hope you're satisfied," he gasped before his voice cracked and caught in his throat at the intensity of my steely-gaze. The pint-sized man froze before resuming his 'thousand-yard stare' at his feet.

Snively's capture was indeed a devastating blow to Robotnik's operations, sundering with one stroke his nephew and greatest ally. It would be a turning point in our war filled with a long series of crushing, humiliating defeats for the Freedom Fighters. Now, it was up to me to get him home and secure our second true victory of the war.

''Princess, we are rested and should make a move." The chief of the Wolf Pack, a tall and imposing brown and grey wolf by the name of Lobo, interrupted. Medal for Antoine, laser rifle with a dead battery, Mobile Roboticizer, grumpy prisoner; yes, everything's in place.

"Enough resting, walk," I urged, jabbing Snively in the back with the barrel of my inoperable weapon. He shuddered at the unwelcome feel before he started trudging away.

It was slow-going as Snively had to be kept in the middle of the party to fulfil his newly appointed role as 'human shield'. It sickens me that I even think in those terms, but I could leave nothing to chance and it was clear the feeling was mutual as Snively dragged his feet the entire way.

Above our party were a half dozen surveillance orbs. Small, hovering, spheroid robots with their 'eye-cameras' protected by four metal plates closely resembling a prehistoric mollusc. Though they were unarmed, they were the eyes and ears of Robotnik. Responsible for the capture of many an unsuspecting Freedom Fighter when more combat-capable robots were dispatched. While such a situation never came to pass, we kept on guard.

Still, in spite of Snively, steady progress was made as we passed through the last weathered access road into the Great Forest which marked the boundary between my domain from Robotnik's. Sure, my 'domain' was defined on the whims of a verbal contract with a notorious traitor. Terms so shaky it could be rendered null and void at any time. But for the moment, it was mine and it felt good.

We kept silent as we passed through the remains of hastily dismantled logging operations. Already, my mind was churning at the opportunities. Provided the truce held up, there was much salvage available, especially of military-grade high explosives which were always in short supply.

Explosives; that got me thinking. What was to stop me from smuggling them through in dribs and drabs and shovel them through the 'portal' in an assassination attempt? No, that is a stupid idea. There was no guarantee it would still be there. Furthermore, it was much too inaccurate. Doing some rough mental arithmetic, I had ended-up roughly a mile-and-a-half from my intended destination. An assassination attempt would most likely result in the dictator emerging unscathed and an unacceptably high amount of collateral damage inflicted on the hapless Robian population.

A larger explosion would be more certain to carry out the deed. We could harness the 'Deep Power Stones' within the 'Ring Pool' to level Command Central… along with a sizeable chunk of Robotropolis. No, there are certain moral event horizons to which even I won't sink to.

The nature of my mysterious benefactor also bears speculation too:

Iblis, the embodiment of chaos could do it. He would have an interest in stopping Robotnik's vision of a clockwork world; unchanging, unvarying, anathema to the very concept of chaos. The trouble was, according to legend, it was sealed within the soul of Princess Elise of Soleannia an aeon ago. If it still exists now, it probably doesn't have the power to pull off something like this. At least, not without help. Chaos is after-all amplified by having other instances of itself, like other chaos wielders. There are also the Chaos Emeralds. But while it is said they possess a 'mind' of sorts they're not really sapient and are thus incapable of acting on their own volition.

Naugus himself? He could certainly pull off feats of magic and had the finesse necessary to prevent me from materializing into rock. The trouble was subtlety was not his modus operandi. Naugus never had a problem with being either hands-on, or claws-on as the case may be. Even before he went insane, he would have no ideological problem with charging in and killing Robotnik where he stood. Furthermore, he was a showboat and probably couldn't resist showing himself if only to protest my poor rendition of him. It was unsurprising then that hubris was the cause of the wizard's demise many years ago when he vanished in an 'accident' involving the Zone of Silence. I'm certain he has no physical presence in Mobius and certainly not in the heart of Robotropolis.

The Source of All could be it. King Maximillian likened it to a primaeval building block of life. The last of its kind, carefully preserved and stored in the form of a sentient golden pool within a secret room of the castle by our ancestors. Supposedly, it served as a guiding voice for the acting patriarch or matriarch of the Acorn line. As an unwritten part of the coronation procedure, a prospective heir had to be deemed 'worthy' via a ritual involving the pool and … that's about all I know.

It's frustrating. Sally was not deemed at the time to have the maturity necessary for the full details. Fortunately, Sally's forebears had foreseen the likelihood of their descendants mucking about and imbued three artefacts with the source in case access to the pool was ever lost. They are the Sword of Acorns, which I am apparently unworthy to wield; the Crown of Acorns; and the Ring of Acorns. The first was lost with King Acorn in his banishment and the other… we don't talk about what happened.

Theoretically, it's possible that some fourth hitherto unknown cosmic entity had taken an interest in me, but I doubt it. I think I've covered all the bases. What I do know is that whoever this entity was, it was related to the Acorn Kingdom's past and that gives me some ideas I could follow up on…

* * *

Eventually, our travels took us to a welcoming tree cover where true to the dictator's word, the surveillance orbs made no attempt to progress past. "We've made it," I announced just as the sun was starting to set. I was actually starting to feel quite comfortable and leaned against a good tall tree to drift off into sleep when Lobo rudely interrupted my snooze.

"Princess, from personal experience you never achieve a victory this big without running into some bad blood," Lobo corrected, snapping me from the lull of security. "Don't look now. She'll notice"

 _She?_ I mouthed.

"A red vixen watching us. Is she one of yours?" he asked.

"Is she about my height? Short-haired like mine and a yellow-bow on-top?" I inquired.

"Yes"

I blanched, froze, and swallowed.

There was only one person that I knew of that would fit that description. Fiona Fox, an unabashed, 'professional' bounty hunter of Robotnik. While never far behind was ... oh no. I cursed the ill-defined wording of my agreement with Robotnik. I merely said no machines. He was still free to unleash his handful of Mobian agents against us.

"Don't react, if you can. I don't think she knows we know she's there."

"Who's she?" Lobo asked.

"Working for Robotnik."

Lobo nodded in acknowledgement. "We'll outflank her. The tricky part is that our heavy weaponry was confiscated. But you have yours, don't you?"

"It's inoperable, dead battery," I cautioned.

"She won't know that."

"She's not the problem. The trickiest part will be Scourge. Wherever she is, he's not far behind. He'll track us like a bloodhound. We'll have to double back and lay an ambush for her. Then bait him in."

"Who's Scourge?" Lobo asked worriedly.

"It's a mystery. He claims he's from an alternate world where he was the leader of a group of terrorists called the Suppression Squad. All you need to know is he's nearly as fast and as strong as Sonic."

"How do we stop him?"

I paused and considered. Underground. Narrow confined spaces would negate his speed. The same way the old subway tunnels did for Sonic. If I engaged him in the old Freedom Fighter HQ, familiar ground. I had a fighting chance. "How fast can you travel?" I asked Lobo.

"With Snively or without him?"

"He doesn't weigh very much and can be carried," I noted.

"About ten miles an hour," he ascertained.

"You're exhausted. The terrain will slow you down and don't you require a break?"

"I could say the same for you. Being soft city folk, you underestimate our ruggedness. We're more than capable of maintaining the pace," he declared.

I nodded. "I estimate it will take us about four hours to reach the ambush site. We had best make it there at sunrise which is about 6:46 a.m. so we'll need to move out at about-"

"About 2:46 a.m.," Lobo confirmed.

"I'll need your pack's help to scrounge up a few supplies before we'll be ready." Lobo nodded, directing his pack to gather the necessary. Soon, like clockwork, a steady pile of military-grade, plastic explosives was accumulated before me. All while I sat in horrible anticipation.

I had escaped one of the most nefarious villains in all of Mobius with nothing but my wit and yet he still outsmarted me. No, he had done what any sane and reasonable leader would do. Lay a trap. I had caused this on myself. I had allowed impulse instead of rationality to guide my decision making. Knothole was always in danger, but if we were destroyed because of my carelessness, not even our slim chance of surviving this ordeal could be blamed for it.

 _Well done Sally you've certainly found the most suitable candidate for your replacement._

Soon, the sun had set and we were off. The ground ahead was nearly pitch-black, illuminated only by dim starlight. I could barely see where I was going and had to rely upon Leeta, Lyco's identical twin sister and their best tracker, to navigate forward to the cliffs.

"Nearly there. Peel-off, double back and ambush her," I whispered to Lupe, a lanky grey female wearing gold anklets. She nodded, splitting away from the main body along with several of her pack mates. And shortly thereafter came the sounds of a scuffle, bushes rustling, growling, and hollering.

I ran. Lobo followed shortly behind over to where Fiona Fox, a reddish-brown vulpine struggled with her assailants, clawing and biting. Drawing my lips into a grim line, I clenched my fists till my knuckles were hard tightened bumps and slugged the sellsword in the gut with every ounce of hatred I could muster. There was no playing around. My entire body mass was thrown into the weight of the blow, leg lifting off the ground. Fiona was knocked down with a sputtered grunt and I twisted her arms to restrain her.

As Fiona gasped for breath, I held her precariously. Tight enough to make sure she wouldn't escape but loose enough so as not to cause undue pain. Lobo caught up and held his arms out. "Allow me." With a snort, he kicked Fiona in the knees causing her to curse, stumble, and face-plant. Then, he grabbed a hold of her jerking head with one hand and another on her squirming body and snapped her neck. Fiona twitched and went slack. I gaped.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked after recovering from the shock.

"She was a traitor, princess. Of course, it was necessary. I had to be expedient with dispensing justice," Lobo elaborated. "As you were saying, we require her body for bait. Do you require any assistance?"

Lobo's eyes narrowed. They were rigid, cold, hard. I knew he knew that was not what I meant. I met his amber eyes with my own. "No," I stated emotionlessly. Idiot. If I had been a little less sleep-deprived, I would have realized my new allies would think differently from me. But it was too late for that.

I lifted an arm over the neck and hefted Fiona up. It was harder than I expected. There's a certain extra weight to a corpse, something even an unconscious body doesn't have. It took a little doing, but I managed to accommodate my new centre of gravity with Lupe's help.

"Your first time?" Lupe asked sympathetically.

"Not the first time," I huffed in reply.

As we lifted the body together, Fiona's neck hung at an obscene angle. Her eyes stared and her mouth drooped open. I readjusted her head, only to have it flop to some new and equally terrible position. I cursed, fidgeting till I got her head nestled over my shoulders. It was an uncomfortably intimate position and I felt a creeping embarrassment that made me quicken my steps as I made a beeline for the cliffs.

"Yeesh, sorry," I whispered to Fiona as her eyes started to turn milky. My apology was inane, but I felt like I had to vocalize some sort of apology, and that weak fare would have to suffice.

"You are very brave. I can't imagine just what you're going through," Lupe remarked as I continued staring at our destination. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was witnessing my second death in less than forty-eight hours.

"It's fine, really. Almost there," I hissed.

* * *

Barely visible as a dark triangle at the base of a sheer cliff was an old tree stump. The camouflaged entry point to an old warren of tunnels set within a limestone cave; Freedom Fighter HQ. Our former base before encroaching robots forced us to rebase back to Knothole. Though it was not in regular use, it served as an overnight rest-stop and held some basic supplies. But most importantly, it came equipped with a working generator and a security room with a live feed of cameras.

Starting up the generator, I booted up the old security system and watched lights and security monitors come to life. Many of the screens displaying static where their cameras had either degraded from lack of maintenance or been cannibalized for parts. Fortunately, there were still enough left-over for a good view of the abandoned base. Watching the screens fills me with nostalgia. It was a simpler time. Back when success only meant sending back enough supplies to keep the population going. Back when we weren't trying to fight a war my parent's lost. But I couldn't stop to reminisce. Not when we had a powerful chaos wielder breathing down our necks.

I supervised the Pack to set-up our bountiful but finite supplies of explosives at pre-arranged points, putting into effect pre-existing contingency plans designed to exploit Robotnik's unwavering commitment to the 'sunk-cost fallacy'. We would attempt to draw in as many droids as possible towards a 'Kill Zone', followed thereafter by collapsing entire load-bearing section to take down as many droids as possible. While such a situation never came to pass, Sally had drilled the invasion scenario so many times that it took only a little going and some modifications to make it come to life.

That is how I found myself with the task of running back and forth down familiar passageways, supervising the allotment of our substantial but finite number of explosives. It was nerve-wracking, but the opportunity to defeat one of Robotnik' most formidable Mobian agents was an opportunity too good to pass up. The finishing touches involved using Fiona's corpse to 'scent-bait' the traps.

Finally, I was left with the enviable task of burial duty. "Well uh," I said, holding Fiona over a pit, "well, I'm sorry you had to die and wow, I can't believe I'm explaining myself to a corpse." With that brilliant eulogy, I dropped her below, turned and walked away.

Having completed our preparations in record time we crammed into the security room to spring the trap a short two-way radio, salvage from Fiona's gear. The perfect means of reeling in her partner. Do I really have to do this again? I gulped, pushing down on the handset. "Fiona? Where are you?" the radio crackles to life with a tone, not unlike Sonic's. Except that it had that subtle harsh undertone.

I lowered my voice to a baritone. "I'm Ixis Naugus and I have your little lady-friend here."

"Naugus? Eggman says yous supposed to be some kinda wizard? You speak like a girl. Oh wait, you're a girl and not even like the Alicia from my world. If you've harmed her in any way…" Mentally I cursed myself for putting up such a poor act. But I didn't let his obvious misogynist remarks faze me.

"If you ever intend to see your little friend again, come alone," I hissed, before cutting him off and leaving him without any opportunity to make a raunchy joke at my expense. We waited. It wouldn't take long. Scourge may have been lazy to a fault, but Fiona and he were practically inseparable. A regular Bonnie and Clyde duo. He would come for her.

I kept my eyes peeled on the security monitor. With as many blind spots there were, he could already be inside and we would be none the wiser. Minutes later, a trap went off. The noise reverberating down the tunnels. "He's here," I whispered.

He had chosen a different entrance from the one we baited. But it didn't matter. The narrow corridors were mined at strategic intervals. He would get hit no matter which way he ran. Another tremor came. This time nearer. It was infuriating being left in the dark. My eyes flicked over the screens trying to catch a glimpse of my foe. Then, in the corner of my eye, I spotted him in one of the former bunk-rooms.

Yes, this was working. Scourge was interminable. Chaos wielders like him could use Power Rings to soak up normally lethal blows. But from what I could tell he was definitely hurting. The green hedgehog was smouldering, quills blackened from explosions. His sunglasses were shattered and his customary greaser jacket was reduced to tatters. With each booby trap, the green hedgehog seemed to grow increasingly frenzied. He raced one-way than the next, following the false scent-trails of his deceased partner. But at no point did my greatest fear come to pass; the hedgehog withdrawing, regrouping. Instead, he stayed the course. Yes, we had the battleground under control.

Within the former training room, Scourge halted and glared up at the camera. His mouth shifted and another major short-coming with the security system was that it lacked sound. So, it was impossible to tell what he was saying. But the rude gesture he made required no translation. He knew. Scourge backtracked in the direction of the security room in a decent imitation of his counterpart's spin-dash.

"He's coming. Get ready," I announce to my allies. It was much too soon. Worst still, it lent credence to the theory that he had been in our base before. I chewed on my tongue and reassessed the situation. Just two booby traps left between him and us.

The ground trembled.

The next would be our final contingency, an explosion large enough to release a measured but unstoppable torrent of water from the spring above. The security room shudders. My teeth chatter together. The overhead lights flicker. At once, the entire field of security footage was replaced by static before going blank entirely. After what seemed like an eternity, my world stops shaking. "Everyone okay?" A collection of scattered moans, groans and thumbs-up alleviated my worst fears. No one was seriously hurt in the last explosion. Nobody I cared for anyway. My eyes fall upon Snively who throws his arms up.

"I'm alive if anyone cares," he moaned. I roll my eyes. Him I feel no pity for. On the contrary, I felt an almost visceral pleasure watching him get his comeuppance, if only a little.

Rebooting the security system was nerve-wracking. Every moment wasted was an opportunity for Scourge to bear down upon us. At first, nothing happened. But a little trick I learnt from Rotor called the 'percussion-tap' worked wonders, revealing … zilch. An entire field of screens displaying nothing but static. If I had I would have to do so the old-fashioned way.

I stepped out of the security room, a trickle of water ran towards me. I swallow, my ears picking up nothing but running water as I stared into a partially collapsed tunnel. Natural sunlight peeked through the cracks where the explosion had torn the ceiling asunder. The Pack accompanied me, but I cautioned them to hold back and salvage what they could before the place flooded.

As I went further along, the freezing cold water rose from ankle to knee-deep. There Scourge was. Incredibly, though the explosion had shifted several tons of rock, he was still very much alive. He floundered in the water on shattered legs, some distance from the epicentre where he had been tossed like a ragdoll. I knew that in spite of his current state, he would recover given enough time.

I couldn't let that happen.

I pinched my nostrils. I took a deep breath, threw my legs out from under me and ducked below the surface of the water. The current was stronger than anticipated, dragging me a few feet along the bottom before I could regain myself. I emerged with a big splash, hacking and coughing. I slapped my chest to release inhaled water before stalking towards him. As I approached, my opponent's form seemed to coalesce into something ... breakable. I was home, he was here. A single imperfection to what might be the last free stronghold in all of Mobius. It would be too easy to rectify that error. All I had to do was kill. Kill like vicious, cruel Lobo.

"Look at how we live because of you," I seethed. "Look at how we hide, fear, and die because of you. You earn no pardon till we're free." I heard Scourge beg as I stalked toward him. But his pleas were muffled by the sound of running water and fell upon deaf ears as I unslung my weapon. I made a swing for his head and connected. A tremor travel ran through its length and a loud sickening crack tears through the air as metal met bone. He jerked at the weight of the blow, before falling face first with a splash.


	12. Those We Left Behind

**Those We Left Behind**

There was nothing save an echoing, horrible, gurgling cry of pain and terror that lingered as I followed and stomped his face into silt with my blue boots. The cry stopped. I paused in the freezing water, watching as clotting blood flowed off in long strands. Lupe extends a welcoming hand as I emerged, shivering.

"Is it done?" she asks.

"Yes Lupe, it's done," I said, taking a hold of her outstretched hand.

We sat to rest and recover on the upper-level storerooms, away from the flooding. Unfortunately, what should have been shelves containing emergency rations were left barren. This left me desperate and famished enough to rummage through piles of empty cans whose residue had been scraped clean, until my hands brushed over a packet of instant noodles, devoid of any seasoning. While collecting at the bottom of the refuse was … shedding? I sniffed the collection of rust-brown hairs. Silky, glossy. Like a fox or a mink. Fiona's?

So, they were squatters in our old base. This had to have been a few weeks worth of stolen food for the thieving, criminal duo. I growled in frustration. It makes me think of a rumour I heard once. Supposedly, supermarkets used to throw out whole dumpsters worth of perfectly edible food. Any defect like defaced packaging and unsightly lumps was sufficient reason to warrant their disposal. Now, I can't verify the veracity of such outlandish tales. But if they were real? I was more than willing to kill.

I held out the packet like a consolation prize. The collective disappointment painted on my companion's faces was clear. Even the normally apathetic Snively pouted at the unfortunate turn of events. I knew I was making a bad impression. But between my racing heart and throbbing feet, I could barely bring myself to care. It would be an entrée, I told myself, before the big celebratory feast when I got home.

While I started the fire. The Pack sat, huddled in a circle. I strained my ears to eavesdrop but could only make out snippets of their heated debate over the crackling fire. Snively was the topic of their discussion and it was clear their intentions were unpleasant for the little man. For his part, Snively was well aware of their undoubtedly hostile intent and made sure to keep his distance in the event of trouble.

I got flashbacks from cooking. Mostly of the embarrassing kind, like the secret ingredients soup fiasco. Sally's friends would never let her live that down, shooing her out of the kitchen before she could wind up giving everyone food poisoning again. I wondered if I would fare any better. Surely, there was nothing inimical between Sally and food was there? I re-examined the instructions printed on the back. Add noodles, clean water, and heat. What could possibly go wrong? Infamous last words.

"Princess." A harsh grating voice snaps me from my stupor. I gaze up at Lobo who had broken away from the discussion. There's an odd yet altogether familiar feeling of nausea creeping over me. I know that tone. It's the very same when my people are in a bad spot and expect the wise and all-knowing Princess Sally Acorn to have some words of inspiration.

Yes, Princess was not a position Sally would necessarily have chosen herself. But it was her destiny. Sometimes it's a privilege, affording her first dibs on salvage (one which she rarely exercised). Other times she thought her title as being little more than an affectionate nickname. As she was fond of saying: There are no titles in the Great Forest. Her mantra was right up on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed them down. Whining and griping would not endear my already tarnished reputation.

"I'm sorry if I offended your sensibilities earlier," Lobo said. Though the words themselves were diplomatic, his tone was not. It was pensive, almost as though an undercurrent of words was swirling around his tongue, awaiting release.

"You didn't, I was surprised. It's war. I've read of the Pack's campaigns against their mortal enemies, the Fieldale and their bravery against the Overlanders at my father's side." At my honeyed words, a thin wry smile spread across Lobo's face only to vanish just as quickly as it appeared.

"If you've read of our histories, then you must know of our devotion to the Pack."

I nodded.

"So, one mighty leader to another, I wish to bargain." Lobo sighed, almost as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. He shifted awkwardly, awaiting my response.

"What do you have to offer?" I asked curiously. All eyes were firmly affixed on Lobo. I knew the fate of his people rested on his words.

"I think our causes are inexorably linked together. The sooner we defeat Robotnik, the sooner our people can be freed."

"I couldn't agree more," I said encouragingly.

Lobo gave a deep throaty chuckle, seeming all the more intimidating as the flickering fire illuminated his glimmering incisors. "What are you up to, Sally?"

With an uncertain frown, I stared confused at Lobo. "Me, why?"

Lobo laughed. "Come, on, princess. Don't play coy."

I must have looked blank because Lobo cocked his head and paused a moment before adding, "Don't you know of your reputation among the pack?"

"I don't get out much, Lobo. I spend most of my time in the Great Forest."

"I knew about your group before we met. But I didn't believe the rumours at the time: the little group of children turned soldiers, they said, and their leader a wise and mighty warrior-queen. You disturb the Freedom Fighters at your peril." Lobo's smile faltered. "When I saw you, I wondered if the rumour was true. I thought to myself, surely this little girl is no threat. But I saw the way you dealt with Scourge."

I rose up on the balls of my feet. It was an instinctive response, trying to seem bigger than the bloodthirsty predator standing before me. "He was a vicious and cruel bounty hunter working for Robotnik. I had no choice in the matter."

Lobo nodded. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. I finally figured out what you wanted. You desire the pack to be your janissaries, an outside force willing to carry out your deeds."

I felt my heart thudding in my ears. "You followed me because you view me as a valuable ally to help get your people free and I intend to do just that."

With a toss of his head, Lobo said, "You really don't understand? I followed you because if I didn't do something quick, I would be next, and you would deal with me just as you did with Fiona."

"You did it," I hissed, stabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "What was I supposed to do?"

"It was a snap decision made in anger. But you, you didn't even bat an eyelid." Lobo protested. "You have the heart of a killer, Sally. When I suggested using that traitor's corpse as bait, I got not a word of protest from you. Not one word." Lobo mumbled to himself.

Lupe watched our argument intently from a distance, her face calm and unreadable.

Our noses near touched. His stare felt painful and piercing as if he was trying to expose the horrid creature within. For a moment, we glared at each other's in silence until I glimpsed my own reflection in Lobo's sclera. Much to my horror, my face was a mask of rage. Bands of embarrassment wrapped around my chest while the rest of the pack stared back in shock. Lobo's eyes widened before he backed down, taking a seat so as not to tower over me. As if touching up on makeup, he affixed a calm smile to his face, revealing only the barest hint of glittering incisors. But I knew if he really wanted to, Lobo could cross the narrow distance between us in the span of a heartbeat.

His gaze softened. "When I made an error, I tried to make amends by following your lead. But you, you don't ever stop until the job is good and done. Why do you think I agreed"—he swept his arms about in a broad circle— "to follow you down a hole and instruct my pack to obey you? Because I knew if I didn't show you I had had a change of heart, you would have done my people in."

"Enough Lobo, we're getting nowhere antagonizing her," Lupe spoke up, earning the ire of her mate.

"I am Pack leader, entrusted with making the biggest decisions for them." Returning his gaze to me he added, "So tell me exactly what you're after, Sally, before I leave our collective fates in your hands."

My eyes ran over Lobo, his mate, and over each concerned face of the Pack. "It's an evolving project," I began. "I'll get you settled in, survival. Next, security when I consolidate my truce with Robotnik. Then prosperity," I said sullenly at the ingrate. The fact that he was listening now lent little to my desire to alter my phlegmatic expression.

"And then?"

"Power," I said confidently. "Imagine if the Great Forest became a safe haven; think of a world without SWATbots, without Buzz Bombers razing down your homes. Imagine a world that's peaceful and safe."

An uncertain expression spread across Lobo's face as he glanced warily at his mate before returning his gaze to me. "Do you think your Freedom Fighters can really do all that?"

"I don't know for certain, but I do believe it's a goal worth striving for," I confirmed.

"But I know," Lupe spoke up, leaning forward and licking her chops. "It sounds improbable, perhaps. But not impossible. With his nephew taken as a hostage, he wouldn't dare make a move. I would settle here. No more running away." Lupe spoke with a glint in her eyes and an easy smile spread across her muzzle.

Lobo shifted his shoulders. "Don't you mean 'our', mate? Don't you mean 'we'?"

"The vision is mine," Lupe replied. "The pack is accustomed to following their leader. That is in a sense our creed. So, our creed must adapt to our changing environment."

"We have adapted when we were driven from our homes," Lobo said, struggling to re-establish his authority. "We will do so again. But separate, outside of the meddling ways of a scion of the Acorns."

I snorted. "You think in the short-term. You desire independence, self-determination, and autonomy. But what are you going to do for the bare necessities of life? Do you know where to find shelter, clean drinking water, and how to determine the edible plants from the poisonous in this part of the world?"

"I can manage," he said, more hesitatingly this time.

"You are not seriously considering your future. What are you going to do with your depleted numbers? All I request from you is patience and tolerance rather than enmity. My goal will not be a society for the Freedom Fighters alone. The Great Forest will be a shining beacon, an assembly area for an army that will one day liberate Robotropolis."

Lobo raised an eyebrow. "With the Freedom Fighters at the top?"

"Yes," My tone now carrying a note of impatience. "All that is required now is for you to offer me a modicum of trust. We can hash out the details later on. My immediate concern right now is keeping our strength up for the journey ahead." Speaking of which, the strong scent of burnt noodles wafted into my nose. Apparently, I am just as bad as Sally at cooking. Good to know. A pregnant pause followed while I stared at my culinary disaster. "I think they might still edible."

An awkward silence followed as I doled out their meal, my guests tried to be polite but were unable to suppress a look of disgust. A bowl filled with scalding hot soup burst into pieces against the adjacent wall. Lobo scowled at me, having 'finished' his meal. Lupe sat beside me. "On behalf of my mate, I would like to apologize. Are you alright?" Lupe asked seeming genuinely concerned. I considered her affable demeanour to be suspicious.

"You don't speak like the rest, Lupe. Why is this the case?" I asked curiously.

"Because unlike the rest of my pack I attended formal schooling," she answered.

"I see," I acknowledged with a curt nod and tried not to seem crotchety at her peaceful reproach.

"I met Sir Charles. He was brilliant. You probably don't remember me but I saw you once while you once were with another prodigy your age. A ... fox I think?"

There's a reason why we rarely talk about Mobotropolis. While it was certainly not a taboo subject per se, discussions tended to veer into morbid territory. Lupe's attempt at understanding and relating to me was admirable. But not appreciated...

* * *

Sally had a reputation as a delinquent. Following Julayla's passing, a deluge of events had occurred all at once. The Great War had broken out and both her father and elder sibling had become increasingly involved with the minutiae of war: long and dreary meetings with boorish military men; their breasts lined with pomp and paraphernalia.

Consequently, family meals became a rare affair. Made even rarer still when Ivo Julian Kintobar was in attendance. Even with the benefit of hindsight, Sally knew the Overlander defector possessed an almost palpable aura of menace about him. Him she avoided. Even if she had to invent previously unheard of female diseases to take meals on her own.

Sir Charles, her newly appointed guardian, was understanding of his student's needs. He offered generous extensions to her assignment deadlines and was flexible with class schedules. Nonetheless, his support did not extend to outright breaking established school rules when Sally frequently failed to turn in assignments and barely scraped by in her classes. When academic intake was severely curtailed in the wake of the general draft, Sir Charles stepped in personally to mentor his delinquent pupil. Consequently, Sally attended classes regularly and got straight A's. By the end, she had achieved the equivalent of a high school diploma and a scholarship with plans to major in mathematics. But her reputation retained its tarnish, largely because of her aloofness.

Sally did not get along well with the others. The older girls whom were exempt from the draft would talk about parties, sweethearts, daytime television, and what else but the Great War. She heard enough from the desk jockeys, maids, and generals at the palace. The latter of whom used terminologies of no fewer than four syllables in an attempt to bamboozle who they perceived as a naïve girl and were surprised when she did, in fact, understand.

She knew she couldn't bring state secrets into casual conversations but neither could she find relief in more mundane topics. Once, while standing in a knot of girls talking about which boys they thought were cutest, she mentioned that she had helped the Master of Hounds to deliver the latest litter of pups the day prior (she gave one to Sonic, which he called Muttski). The other girls had looked at her in blank disgust and quietly walked away.

Even within the lunchroom, she usually ate by herself. Her head bent low, arm hooked around her tray. Aside from 4-H with Bunnie, she hadn't joined any clubs and didn't play any sports, insisting instead that she headed straight home after lectures. Sir Charles had decided, in his infinite wisdom, she needed a playmate her age. Consequently, he took on a new student who now sat across her.

One of the school's few Mennonites, Nicole the Lynx, always wore a long, simple dress and kept her short black hair under a cap. They got along well enough, which is to say Sally could stand her company. They would have gotten along a lot better had Nicole not apparently gotten it into her head that Sally was a poor sinner in need of repentance. While Sally was picking at a kind of mock chicken stroganoff, she pushed a book across the table. "Read that."

I glanced at it. "What is it?"

"Just read it."

Nicole slid a book into my open hands. While being chauffeured home, I skimmed it. As I had supposed, it was a religiously themed: it recounted the story of a four-year-old boy who had undergone major surgery and gone to heaven for a few minutes. The boy claimed thereafter to have met Jesus who manifested in the boy's mind as a majestic king wearing a crown, holding a sword in one hand and a gold ring in the other. The next day, Nicole confronted me upon returning the book.

"Did you read it?" Nicole asked enthusiastically.

"Most of it."

"And?"

I shrugged which she took as consent. With a nervous smile, she stepped closer. "Doesn't it seem true? Don't you just feel sometimes that there's a higher being beyond our mortal understanding?"

"I know someone just like that," I answered, walking away. "And yes, I live with him every day..."

* * *

I sat upright, straight and tight, giving no indication of my repulse of the topic. "It's a long time ago. Her name was Nicole Lynx and she vanished one day, without so much as a note or a goodbye. If this is an attempt for you to empathize with my position. Please don't."

"I understand if you're sore," Lupe said sorrowfully. "But you must understand. When the SWATbots stopped their work and asked for thirteen to step forth we were speculating that Robotnik in-tended a spectacle where he dealt with us before releasing the rest to sow terror through Mobius."

I knew where this was going. My face fell. "It's not your fault," Lupe reassured. "My mate sent his loyal retinue to go and I volunteered against his wishes. We were expecting martyrdom. Instead, it's we who live and those that remain becoming slaves in our stead."

"Those Overlander children. Were they yours?" I asked.

"Yes Sally, it's a tale regaled countless times over campfires like this one. We fled our homes when SWATbots, undeterred by old ghost stories and tales of ancient curses, descended into our catacombs. From then on, our pack travelled far and wide in search of supplies." Lupe's voice grew saddened. "But there was a spot of hope in our tale of woe. We chanced upon the twins, Aerial and Athena, while scavenging through the ruins of a shattered Overlander City. They were nearly feral. Their family no doubt perishing in one of the dictator's attacks. We couldn't leave them be, so my husband and I decided to adopt them," Lupe finished sounding hopeful once more. "I'm not sure if you have children yourself. But as a mother my hopes of getting them back lie with you." Lupe's tone was grave.

"I'll help in any way I can. That's a promise I intend to keep."

"It is admirable that you take your responsibility so seriously. Assenting to duty is the proper course of action for a queen. Without your timely presence, we would be slaves. Unlike my mate, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth." She finishes her meal and, looking over to where the rest of the Pack had gathered, she shouted, "Robotnik has taken two of my children. He will never take away my freedom. I am free. We are free."

"Free or dead," I say harshly.

"Free or dead!" Lupe shouts aloud to the rest.

"FREE OR DEAD!" comes a chorus of voices. It's hard to describe the sense of community I felt as my one voice joined the multitude. It was as though certain alienable divides were transcended.

Lobo smiled, widely and genuinely. "Free or dead!" Yes, we'll get along just fine.

Saving the world isn't a journey one generally embarks upon intentionally. Oh, you'll set out with a vague idea of helping, maybe even a concrete goal in the "making things better" department. But to consciously, willfully set out to save the entire world? Not the standard hero M.O. Even Sonic, saviour of the world, was playing a reactive role when he did his thing.

In the storybooks, the pieces were already laid out. Guided into place by the hand of fate, the danger is imminent but the path to victory was never in any doubt. All the heroine of the story had to do was follow the trail laid before her. Not lose heart, come hell or high-water. When did I decide to save the world? I had to do so deliberately and forge that trail for myself. Robotnik was powerful. But I knew he had limitations, weaknesses. He could be tricked, fooled. Already, I had the bare skeletons of a plan assembled. But I couldn't do it on my own. I would need to convince my people and that would be a whole other type of battle on its own.


	13. Destiny

**Destiny**

Morning sunlight spilt in lazy, mote-laden streams through the canopy of branches and leaves above. It spread out like a warm, blanketing cloak over my brown fur as I walked. The previous day had been travelled in joyous celebration, but now it felt more like a forced march. Gone is the jubilation and the euphoria of yesterday, replaced by an odd melancholy.

By the time the sun was fully up, the sky was clear and the day was hot. The sun's rays pulled moisture from the ground and into the air. Heavy humidity matted fur and made bedraggled hair feel like a lead weight. We passed through a field of sunflowers with their golden faces turned upward, spreading a rich fragrance and providing ample shade, but the air beneath them was thick, still, and suffocating. I could barely see, my legs burned and I felt like I hadn't gotten a fulfilling breath of air in hours.

What certainly didn't help matters was that I hadn't had a full night's sleep in almost three days, and I was finding it difficult to maintain the pace set the previous day. The Pack wasn't faring much better. While most canids are by design capable of maintaining a jogging gait all day long, the Pack had not fully recovered from the ordeal of their captivity. Consequently, we were forced to slow down.

The group emerged at last from the sunflower forest and followed the winding trail up the stony crags leading to the old Tree Fort which guarded the singular pass to Knothole. Now that we were exposed, the sun beat down even more intensely against our necks, but a faint breeze touched sweat-moistened skin and provided some relief. As our destination grew nearer, the entrance narrowed and we were forced to pass single-file through a narrow gap between the granite peaks. I led the way.

"Halte" I heard a distinct Coyote observing from a turret lookout, granting him a commanding view of the cliff opening where our party had emerged

"It's me!" I exclaimed raising my arms-up and motioning for the rest to hold back.

"C'est toi! Eez the Princess!" Antoine exclaimed.

Geoffrey quickly emerged "Wait right there." he demanded as he slid down a creeper, jogging at a brisk pace and coming to a stop before me. He stared suspiciously drawing in in my scent with a deep breath. He tiptoed, peering over my shoulder. His eyes ran over the Pack, lingering on Snively a moment longer before returning to me. I felt the snort of his warm breath on my skin.

He brings his fists out while I raised my own. We pounded our fists together vertically and both ways. Then, we 'bro-fisted' extending our index fingers, twirling them around each other three times before wrapping our pinkies together. His gaze locks with mine as we bump our wrists together and we finished off by giving each other a thumbs up. The secret Knothole Freedom Fighter handshake.

Geoffrey smiled, embracing me and wrapping me whole with his arms. I felt like I belonged there. His lips press tightly into mine and I found myself reciprocating, but all too soon, that gratifying experience was brought to an end when Geoffrey parted his muzzle from mine, allowing me to draw a deep satisfying breath. The first I felt I had in hours. Then, I felt his arousal against my abdomen, a flutter of pheromones and desire made my knees wobble. Like tide washing footprints from the sand, my mind was blank.

Until like a rubber band, I snapped back into coherent awareness. I stepped back, smiling playfully "That was certainly very uncouth, Mr St. John."

"What happened?"

"I got caught, but I got away."

"Care to elaborate?" Geoffrey asked perplexed.

"Not right now."

"You know, you don't really strike me as the whole roguish hero, Sally," Geoffrey said, gesturing to the menagerie behind me.

"I never struck myself that way either…"

I assemble everyone in the courtyard of the fort where I assigned sentries to keep an eye on the Pack. Admittedly, I had developed suspicions over a few of them over the course of the journey and had to make sure none of them were in fact 'Auto-Automaton' robotic infiltrators. I convinced them the guards were alright and I assured them of my return when I would properly integrate them into the community.

Snively meanwhile, received a far less welcoming reception. To the tune of jeers and triumphant whoops of the Freedom Fighter recruits, he is unceremoniously dumped into an empty storeroom that was hastily converted into a makeshift prison cell.

Then, I searched for Bunnie.

"Princess!" Geoffrey called out. I ignored him.

"Sally, stop. I thought you were smarter than that." He began staring wide-eyed at the miniaturized Roboticizer stuffed into my boot pouch. "You stormed Robotnik's citadel all on your own!? As if I don't have enough to worry about," he growled; his voice betraying deep notes of concern.

"Is this really the best time?" I asked as I bounded my way through dense vegetation, weaving expertly through saplings as he tried to keep up through the prickly mess.

"Sally, stop! Listen to me!" Geoffrey shouted to me. I sighed and obeyed, waiting as he caught up. I crossed my arms, leaning against a tree. A position that so comfortable that I almost collapsed into a peaceful, narcoleptic stupor.

"What was all that about?" he asked. "We just spent the entire night and half of the morning cleaning up after a mess you caused, you! I know you're smarter than that and so do you. Tell me what that was about so I can trust you again." He demanded.

"It was about Bunnie, I was trying to find her medicine," I replied.

Geoffrey's fury seemed to abate "She's really that sick?" He asked.

"Yes. Can I go to see her now? Do I really need your permission here, to see my best friend?"

"How is she?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

I sighed "Not good. I favour Bunnie. Perhaps too much." I began "I do not deny that I acted inappropriately, but I failed, and I will not repeat that mistake. Despite my failure, have I regained your trust?"

Geoffrey stared, mouth half open. "I…yeah, that explains it. Thanks. For telling me."

My trek to Knothole was short, but filled with indiscrete whispering:

 **She's alive!**

 **What happened to her?**

 **She looks like she's been through Tartarus.**

 **That lying weasel; Sonic wouldn't do that.**

I ignored them and continued to search for my friend. It wasn't hard to find Bunnie as she sat with her limbs still intact on a wheelchair within an open field, now idyllic and golden with sunlight, grass swaying like a stiff ocean in a breeze. She cuddled Tails in her lap as she whispered stories to him, much to the kit's delight.

The exhaustion of the hike. The mind-numbing terror and weakness I had felt when I nearly succumbed to Robotnik, the grotesque bloodshed I had witnessed and committed. The sight before me almost made me start weeping on the spot. How could something so pure and joyful still exist in a world full of such evil and hopelessness? How could I ruin this peaceful moment of innocence with what I had to say? As I approached, the farm bunny was all-smiles. Owing to her seated position, Bunnie eschewed a full-body hug in favour of a simple squeeze on the shoulders. Somehow, that gesture felt far more meaningful "So good to have ya back, yer won't believe some of the rumours goin on" she drawled.

"What rumours?" I asked.

"Mah big mouth, it doesn't matter now that yer still in one piece," Bunnie replied, brusque as ever.

"Aunt Sally!" Tails called as he toddled up to me. His legs were in casts, but he had a pair of tiny crutches that he used to propel himself along. I felt a stab of pain at the sight but swallowed it down.

"Hey, Tails how are you doing?" I asked in a contrite tone, crouching down to be level with him.

"They said Sonic killed you" he chocked, tightly embracing me.

What?

I look up at the bionic belle, "Bunnie?" I breathed, wondering what had transpired in my absence.

Bunnie let out a resigned sigh, "Sorry Tails, yer Aunt Bunny and Sally need a little gal-to-gal talk. We'll drop yer off with Doc Quack."

Getting to the clinic was slow, it took cajoling for Bunnie to accede to my offer to help. Tails, on the other hand, was clingy as though he needed constant reassurance that I was real and not an apparition. Disentangling myself from him was hard in more ways than one. The unfettered love he showered onto me was something I wanted, craved, yet I've done just fine without the need for affirmation. I gave him many hugs and 'funny kisses' (making up those I missed) before sending him off.

After that, Bunnie and I were left alone in her hut. She looked at me with downcast eyes, following my every movement as I folded her wheelchair, making sure to leave it within easy reach.

"So, what was all that about?" I asked when the two of us were alone.

"Well, when Fang, Nic, Nack or whatever new name that slimy weasel uses returned without either of ya he came up with quite the doozy of a story. He said Sugah hog killed yer over an argument. But ah suppose rumours of yer demise were greatly exaggerated, weren't they?" Bunnie smirked as she said this.

I ran a hand through my scruffy hair, shaking my head in disbelief. To be fair, that assumption wasn't entirely unfounded. Briefly, I wondered how Sonic would handle the blow to his reputation, but I guessed there was little to worry about, after all, he was always good at rolling with the punches. "Speaking of which, did you see Sonic? I didn't see him around" I asked.

"Well yeah, Sugah hog came up to me yesterday. He said he hurt ya feelings. He asked me how to make it up ta ya. So, ah told him to get yer a present. Yer a gal. All gals love presents. Then he took-off.

I face-palmed.

He's insufferable. We need him. I need him. He can't just get up and go as he fancies.

"Ah know what yer thinking. No need ta fret. He'll be back. Ah'm sure of it. Most important thing is yer home; all safe and sound" Bunnie remarked reassuringly.

"It's not all that simple, Bunnie." I said lackadaisically, levelling with the emerald-eyed belle "Do you want to know where I've been?"

"Somehow ah think that's not a good question ta ask," Bunnie said as she stared intently, igniting a certain queasy feeling in the gut.

"I was trying to get you medicine, in Robotropolis," I explained.

"Alone? Fer me? What were ya thinking? Ya could've been killed!" she exclaimed; she then groaned and clutched her head.

"I know, but I don't welch on promises, even those I make to myself," I stated.

"So, I take it yer didn't make it then," Bunnie commented.

"No, Bunnie, I failed," I replied, my reply echoing through my thoughts once more.

"Sally Girl, yer didn't fail. Ah can jus wait more," her tone was resigned, almost as though her merry cheer was draining out like a leaking faucet, but as she diverted the path of her eyes, the emotion which they expressed became something altogether different. Bunnie gazed now at the Mobile Roboticizer stuffed securely into my boot pocket. Her eyes glimmered with equal measures of amazement and revulsion. "The Roboticizer…" I could barely recognize the sound of her voice as she croaked that accursed word. "We actually have it!" Like a flicked switch, light flooded to eyes which blazed like emerald fire "Don't sweat it. It had ta happen sometime. As a matter of fact, Ah'm glad that it did."

"You're…glad to see this horrible thing again?" I asked surprised.

Bunnie's face was solemn as she nodded, "Some inner demons ya jus have ta face." she explained, "And this lil devil-" she motioned to the device, "-is certainly one o' them. Ah see nothin fer me ta be afraid of. Its jus an ole machine, only as wicked as whoever uses it. Now that it's in our hands. Maybe, we can use our ole noggins ta save the poor souls who aren't fortunate enough ta have her best friends save her."

"Yeah maybe... Bunnie, there's a lot I need to go over, but first I'm going home to prepare. Gather everyone at my place after the speech. It's going to be big."

"Yer can count on me" Bunnie nodded. She hadn't addressed the proverbial elephant in the room, but I guess my place was as good a place as any. In any event, had no intention of forcing an answer from her.

Returning home, I peel off my body armour which had started to cling to me like a second skin. I took a well-deserved shower followed by combing my rat-nest hair till it was somewhere between scruffy and bed-hair. Sally may have been a bit of a tomboy, but no one would rightfully claim she neglected her coiffure. Not on my watch anyway. Then I collapsed in bed, diary in hand.

* * *

Dad, do you know how lucky you were?

You saw our home the way it was meant to be: a land of lush green and sparkling water; untouched, like a virgin. Her breath so pristine, her shiny hair singing lullaby to her offspring. You were adored, worshipped by a populace who saw you as their protector. I can't imagine how satisfying, how compelling it was to you to rise from bed each day and peer over the parapets over a sea of your adoring subjects. What other incentives could the Source Of All offer to compel you to devote your life to them? I can only imagine that kind of satisfaction, that kind of fullness.

Do you know how lucky you were?

You protected your people from a direct threat, and yes, you failed in the end, through no fault of your own, but for precious years before all that, you were innocent, ordinary. You were different, important, but not yet a necessity. The fate of the nation was not yet on your shoulders. You were permitted a childhood, to prepare, mature and become your own man.

Do you know how lucky you were?

I wonder if you ever realized just how blessed you were, how unique and irreplicable your situation was. Yes, you stood head and shoulders over the rest. Because you were monarch. But unlike most other Acorns cursed with this burden, you were not alone.

Do you know how lucky you were to have my mother who shared your intelligence? Someone you could communicate with, share intimate thoughts and feelings with, and understand on an implicit, complex, intellectual level? A beautiful girl whom you could love fell into your arms. From that day forward, neither of you were ever truly alone. You loved each other in your mutual struggles. She fought with you, by you. She insulted you and a part of you hated each other, but by the end of the day, you had each other and that was what mattered. You were never, ever alone.

You were very lucky. You don't know how many times I have had to tell your stories to my people who still view you will through the lenses of nostalgia. A monolithic paragon of justice. You cannot understand how much more I hate it every time I do. Now, with the newcomers, I am expected to retell your story a dozen more times. I don't know how to keep from slitting my wrists in rage.

And you.

You and I are blood. But I don't even understand you. Your reputation preceded you, casting a giant shadow over your offspring. Am I supposed to relate to you? Understand you? How can I understand you? You're a stranger to me.

You had the opportunity to pick me and you refused. If you had chosen General Armand or one of your ministers I could understand because you needed them, but you chose to secure some ceremonial trinkets. Why? Were they more valuable to you than me? Your blood, your kin and kith? You don't know how long I blamed your decision on myself. How long I thought I was deficient or broken in some way, how long I was sure you avoided me because I disgusted you, but I have grown since then, father. I have grown to learn that all fault in the world is not of my making, that there are some things which are truly out of my control, and though it gives me no peace, I know I cannot fix everything.

That was not my fault.

It was yours.

Was it the shame of defeat? Was it guilt? Did you feel bad about losing our war? Did you realize perhaps the coup was your fault? That some cascading series of decisions you made caused the demise of our people? Did you realize all this, and decide you couldn't face admitting all of it to me? That does not make me happy, but I can understand it.

I wish you were here. I wish Julayla, Rosie and Mom were here. Despite my dissatisfaction and disgust, despite my confusion. All of you. I wish I had some kind of guide or mentor through this, I wish I could talk to someone who's done this before. I wish now, more than ever, not only because this war gets worse every day, but because of Sonic. How do you love someone you can't relate to? How could you hold someone and love him, knowing his perception of the world would be so, so much narrower than yours? Knowing that though he was with you, he was nothing like you at all?

How would you do it?

How can I?

My people are celebrating my 'success' and they ask for my story. I should go appease them before someone else tells your story again. Sonic … why have you not yet returned? If only I could escape into your arms and away from my head. Lonely. I am so very lonely.


	14. Cabaret

**Cabaret**

Above, the stars were arrayed in full. Their pale fire burning against the satin-blue sky. And like the opposite side of a coin, Knothole shone. Candle-light from paper lanterns radiated from the crowd in a scene deeply reminiscent of Summer Solstice when many had fervently believed in their ability to ward off evil spirits. The strong and youthful, the elderly and infirm of age gathered. Some held on to family or a life-partner. Others rested a reassuring hand, paw or claw upon the shoulder of a friend or neighbour. A few simply stood by themselves, their eyes closed as though in prayer.

I stand on a podium dressed in an evening ball gown, one of the few pieces of formal wear Sally owned, (such was her disdain for formalities) in the meeting hall overlooking the Great River.

My embellished narrative was kept clear-cut and dry omitting magic, super weapons and murder. I tell them of the tragedy that had befallen the Wolf Pack nation and the importance of welcoming the shattered survivors into the fold. I inform them of Snively's capture (a crescendo of cheers followed). The seizure of a miniaturized Roboticizer unit (another rousing cheer drowned me out for almost a minute). The scene before me was deeply moving. All the same, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer incongruity of it all. It's larger monstrous incarnation had destroyed countless innocent lives. Yet the villagers now applauded thunderously as they witnessed the recovered device presented by Rotor with his assurances of making a breakthrough in the near future on the de-roboticizer. Mobians happy to see the Roboticizer…I never thought that day would come.

I inform them of the truce and attract a less than stellar reception. Gasps are heard, a hushed murmur rises forth from the crowd. Actually, this was going much better than expected, no one was throwing rocks or shoes at me. I impress upon my enraptured audience its temporary nature. I stress the unique opportunity it afforded in being able to gather allies unhindered and the resumption of the war on more favourable terms. I also make promises of more concrete plans to be decided among the Freedom Fighter Leaders and disseminated downwards to the rank and file.

A pregnant pause followed as I glanced at my hastily and imperfectly assembled speech notes. In the end, I decided this would not be an issue addressed in the heat of the moment but pondered overnight. In homes and barracks, discussed among friends and loved ones.

Finally, I concluded. "The path ahead is full of hazards. Such are all paths. But this is the one most consistent with our character. The cost of freedom is always high and we've always been willing to pay it. But the one path we never choose is the path of surrender or submission. Our goal is not the victory of might, but the vindication of right. Not peace at the expense of freedom, but both peace and freedom" my eyes washed over the spellbound crowd.

"The day shall come when the chains that bind our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters shall crumble. Near draws the day when none shall be prisoners within their own bodies. A day will dawn when all Mobius shall be set free!" sensing the audience about to give another en mass cheer I bid adieu leaving Dulcy to announce the celebrations.

I was just about to congratulate myself for making a quick getaway when a figure shuffles forward to intercept as I stepped off the podium. "Oh!" an elderly woodchuck stood before me lips quivering as he stared, raking gnarled fingers repeatedly through his foam-white curls. "You have done enough, Your Highness!" cried old Mr Woodchuck as be wrung his gnarled paws together.

"Because of you, there is a chance that I will be reunited with my dear Rosie!" unable to control himself, he reached out grasping my outstretched hands. "It has been so long…so many years since that truly horrible day! Every moment I have lived without her …has been one of pain. But because of what you have done…I may see her again!"

Eyes brimming with tears of raw emotion, he squeezes my hands. I felt a lump take up residence in my throat. I swallow heavily, overwhelmed by his gratitude. "You need not thank me," I answered huskily, unsurprised to find my cheeks moisten. "Bringing hope into your life is reward enough. With both heart and soul, I pray that your dear wife is soon returned to you."

At this deeply moving scene, the woodchuck sobbed. "Bless you, your highness. Bless you!"

Yet the warmth exuded was tainted with sorrow. There was no way of knowing whether Rosie Woodchuck's roboticized form could've endured. Even if she had, there was no guarantee she would ever recover; becoming the wife she was to him and the beloved governess I once knew. I swiftly bid the teary-eyed woodchuck goodbye lest I let slip anything that would turn bitter-sweet joy into leadened depression. Yes, there was a great success on this day. Not all of it was mine. But some of it was and I supposed that would have to be enough.

After the speech, I stay awhile as 'guest-of-honour'. It was an important part of statecraft to assuage the people with my physical presence. This meant I needed to shake hands, sifting through my borrowed memories to assign a name, face and a kind word to each guest. I made certain to deflect any pointed questions with assurances of more solid plans tomorrow. Admittedly, this is the first time in a long time Sally had done anything resembling regular princess duties. I for one didn't welcome the change of pace. I found myself thinking as I greeted my umpteenth guest: This is as dull as ditchwater. It's my party, why should I be unable to enjoy myself?

Well, I kind of did. But let's not get ahead of myself. Just as I was wishing for an enormous weight to crush me from above and save myself from mind-numbing drudgery a voice called from above. "Look out!" and I felt a large thump right in front of me.

Dulcy looked around her enormous ungainly body making sure she hadn't crushed anyone. She hadn't. What a shame, it would certainly have livened things up. I didn't know what she wanted, probably to give me a hug. But she seemed so uneasy with herself that she couldn't follow through with the impulse

"Hi, Dulcy, how are you doing tonight?" I asked, with what I hoped was the right level of softness to keep her from locking up.

"Oh, um, I'm pretty good, I guess," she said, kicking at the dirt. "How are… how are you?"

"I'm great," I said. "Happy to see one of my friends again!"

"Oh, um, that's good. It's just…"

Of course, she would trail off like that. "Just what?"

"Just… um. Nothing." She replied tapping her claws together.

I wasn't going to let her get away with that, "Come on, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Oh, yes!" she eagerly agreed, nodding with vigour. "I know that, Sally."

"So why don't you tell me what's bugging you?"

"Oh, um…" She mumbled something unintelligible.

"Dulcy," I said with all the authority I could muster. "Spit it out."

"Your smile!" she squeaked. I was taken aback, "you're just ... smiling in a way, that's not good."

At which point I came to the realization that I can't fake a smile worth a damn. I experimented with a mirror later on. The harder I try, the more I look like Sally at her most neurotic. I sighed and dropped the pretence. "Trying too hard?" I asked.

Dulcy nodded. "Oh yes, much too hard, that looked like it hurt." I chuckled. "Are you really okay, Sally? If I can tell you anything, you know you can do the same with me, right?"

It was inane but yet there are some mundane burdens I can share. "It's hard, Dulcy. It's hard to be home and act like everything's okay."

"He's not mad at you, you know." Dulcy cooed, dawdling with a benign expression on her expressive face.

This genuinely got to me. I knew everything he was going through was my fault and my fault alone. I hung my head. "It's my fault. I hurt him."

She stretched out with a wing and caressed my face. My reactions to that were all tangled up in Sally's memories. I don't think I would ever be able to fully disentangle myself from them. Difficult as it is to admit they are a cornerstone of my very being, immutable and inseparable. In its own execrable way, Dulcy's gentle caress mollified me. I wanted to lean in, drink in the comfort Dulcy afforded. But I didn't. Instead, I pulled back and shook my head.

"I hurt him," I repeated. "I will see him later when I'm sure I won't harm him again."

She stepped close, nuzzling me with a dip of her long serpent-like head. Such a small yet effective gesture "You don't have to pretend, Sally. Not for us."

"I do," I said. "Trust me, you do not want to know some of the things I've done."

"Nothing can be that bad," Dulcy said, naive as always. I don't want to disabuse her of that notion. She's just so … paradoxically weak. I feel like treading on eggshells around her. Yet no matter how menial and demeaning she has proven time and again she can bear the burdens of others.

Dulcy gazed at me and back to the party. "I see the way you keep looking over your shoulder. Go ahead it's yours." I smiled with gratitude from being relieved of the glamorous duty of door-greeter.

"Thanks Dulcy," I blurted out before rushing off.

The makeshift dance floor stood invitingly, painted with swirling arcs of colour dabbed haphazardly throughout. Around were lights switching filters to create a constantly shifting array of prismatic hues. The effect actually deadened the colours of the Mobians present, reducing the pastel wonderland to a muted, undifferentiated herd. Music pumped out of large speakers that surrounded the dance floor, a heavy bassline almost visibly thrumming through the Mobians swaying on the floor.

Actually, I kind of liked it.

I skirted the dance floor, wading through the crowd and getting the lay of the land. Most of the participants were couples. I needed a partner. Just, where was he? Now that the 'warm-up' stage had passed Sonic would be up on stage jamming on his guitar, showing everyone his slick moves. But he wasn't here and I didn't want to dance with just any random acquaintance. Then, I spotted Geoffrey sitting on a stool by himself as he nursed a tall soda.

"Care to join me for a dance?" I suggested. Yes, it was the friendly platonic sort of suggestion.

"Shouldn't we be gathering elsewhere?" he retorted. The meeting at my place, right.

"It a special occasion. Just one for old times' sake," I implored, taking the skunk by his arm.

"What old times sake? We never danced."

"The Charleston Waltz? Come on it'll be easy," Geoffrey grumbled but went along.

We held hands and stepped onto the brightly coloured floor. Instantly, a wave of nausea swept over me. While Sally could be just as adventurous, gregarious and outgoing as Sonic, she was an introvert at heart. Small, intimate parties she could get. A packed, impersonal, bass-thumping rave like this? She didn't see the point. I echoed that discomfort and swallowed it down. It wasn't mine.

The music grows louder. I slipped an arm around him. The other left my body, gracefully tearing through the air in perfect rhyme with my feet. My waist jerked outward vivaciously. For the moment, my eyes are drunk on fire. My feet kiss the threshold of liberty as I danced my inhibitions away.

Sure, my partner had the mobility of a wooden plank. His movements sluggish and stubborn, constantly second-guessing every attempt aœt movement. I adapt quickly to his inexperience, opting to use my body mass into each movement to take command. I savoured each movement, embellishing each step, with a wave of the arm or a toss of the head. I took the time to complete each one before moving on to the next. Back on my feet now, I jiggled and shimmied with every bob of my head, I leaned into him, giddy with joy as the cadence of the music thumped through my veins.

As soon as our little caper was over, Geoffrey sits me down on a bar stool where the background noise gave us an element of privacy from nosy bystanders. I nibbled on a cupcake, staring into the north toward a solitary column of cloud illuminated by glittering starlight. It was topped with feathery disc hundreds of miles wide, stretching into the sky like a pillar to the gods. Beneath that cloud, Sally knew, Robotropolis lay, locked in eternal smog. For a minute, the two of us were silent as we stared north. Finally, Geoffrey broke the silence taking off his beret and setting it on the table.

"So, we're dating now."

It wasn't a question. Inwardly, I wanted to believe I hadn't meant anything with my little escapade. "I feel like I've made a mess of everything," I answered.

"You haven't -"

"Stop," I said, and so he did. "One of the things that I always loved about you, right from the start, is that you never held back. You said the things other people kept to themselves. In the castle, people talk in circles and hide barbs in their words. My mother -" my voice caught. "– never liked it. They make pleasantries but they're just there to see my Dad or one his cronies, and they would complain about the inconvenience. You? You talked to self-professed 'heroes of Mobius' and princesses all the same. There was an honesty to you, I guess. So, please I need to have the plain truth, one way or another"

Geoffrey watched me carefully, considering "Do you really want to know?"

I nodded, plucking a long stem of grass, and putting it into my mouth. Geoffrey spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the ongoing party "The greatest things in life are beautiful, powerful, and fragile. Our home is beautiful. It houses the Freedom Fighters who battle Robotnik, preserved by secrecy and the discipline to keep it. Yet, remove it from us for only a single day and our homes will be destroyed. Left for nature to re-claim, becoming full of ruins, thorns, brambles and irrecoverable.

He lowered his arms "You too are beautiful," Geoffrey said. "You've stood against countless monsters and made Robotnik's tremble in his boots. Yet you are young. What would it take to break you, Sally? I suspect not much."

I finished my cupcake and wiped the crumbs from my hands. "Nobody's broken me yet," I said with an air of nonchalant dismissiveness.

"Nor me." Geoffrey replied, running his hand through the scruff of his neck "Where's Sonic gotten himself to?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it" I dismissed, nodding toward the distant cloudbank "How do you rate our chances for victory now?"

"I … no one knows for certain, Sally. You know best of all. I suspect it may only a matter of time."

In spite of my dour mood, I laughed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my head. Geoffrey remained silent and cleared his throat.

"I express jealousy over the way you hold Sonic to different standards from the rest" he complained laconic, succinct and straight to the heart of the matter. I gritted my teeth together. He sounded sincere and his words carried an element of truth. All the same, they had stung.

"Why do you hate him so?" I asked while crossing my legs.

"I can't stand that he's squandering his immense powers with inaction. To regular folk like us, his speed renders him for all intents and purposes practically invulnerable. If I had his powers, I wouldn't stop for a single instant. I would dedicate every waking moment of every day to the war effort." Geoffrey replied.

"You don't see the hypocrisy there?" I said, adjusting the stalk of grass in my mouth "I've seen numerous people claiming that if they had the power they would heal the sick and protect the weak. But then they eat out at fancy restaurants and buy expensive cigars. It's easy to say that someone else should do something, but it's hard to do it yourself. I've been to your hut, Geoffrey. The things you could do without if you did the most good to the detriment of your personal satisfaction."

"I'm a Freedom Fighter," Geoffrey began. "I train others, organize supplies and raiding parties. When I fritter my time away on something small and petty, the cost isn't measured in terms of lives."

I wasn't in the least bit perturbed by his line of reasoning, "The powerful have a duty to the oppressed. This is true. But they also don't owe an all-encompassing moral obligation to all the people of the world, nor do you. He isn't a slave and neither do you."

Geoffrey frowned knitting his brows back in dejected inquiry "You know full well that is not my intention. I have been nothing but accommodating to your decisions but- "

"You think yourself better than him, don't you?"

"No, I care about your well-being which you seem to neglect. It took me such a long to see…" Geoffrey said scratching the back of his neck "Here was someone you were scared of, someone that you had to watch your words around. Your affection for him was a mask, a veneer."

That surprised me. I stared at the starry sky. I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad either. I just felt empty … numb. "I'm sorry Sally, this isn't easy to say." Geoffrey began only to be cut off by a curt gesture.

"You're... partly right Geoffrey. I was scared. On my first date with him, he carried me and ran halfway across the continent for a picnic like it was nothing" I said with a shake of the head "He held my life in his hands. He presumed my consent like it was nothing. What he does is objectively terrifying, seeing otherwise is wishful thinking. But-"

"So, you see yourself as one of the anchors holding him in place. You feel the need to bind yourself tighter to him so that he'll listen to you" Geoffrey shook his head. "You fear him walking out on us because you feel alone among all of us he has the most to lose in the fight"

"That was not what I meant" I protested before realizing my voice had gotten louder than expected, I paused, taking a deep breath to calm myself before I attracted unwanted attention.

"I'm sorry," Geoffrey whispered. "I didn't mean to interpose my thoughts on you. But all the same, you aren't happy. As a friend, I only wish to help. It's not easy to be a queen."

"I'm not a queen."

"Are you sure? You're young, I know, but I think you have the qualities of one."

I didn't answer for a minute. "I'm not. I'm a girl like you said."

"And yet—"

With a sharp snap, I sat up. "I just want them to learn to take care of themselves." Realizing that my voice had gotten louder than intended, I took a deep breath to calm myself. Glancing around, I saw a few of my fellows watching.

He leaned close and whispered, "You want them to, but will you let them?"

I rubbed at a newly formed callus on the base of my thumb. "Who asked you?"

"Larry, some of the Freedom Fighter squad leaders, they have reservations"

"Concerning the truce?"

"No, they were really impressed with your elocution and mostly they came around to it. They're concerned about you"

I tasted bile. I clenched my fists until I could feel my nails digging deep into the skin of my palms. "Larry can talk to me himself. He knows that."

"Does he?"

"I know what he's worried about. I'm trying to deal with it."

"By cutting yourself off your friends? Perhaps that is your mistake. Perhaps the time has finally come for you to choose. Either be a queen or a girl, Sally. But do not try to be something in between. You must choose your destiny, or it will be destiny itself that breaks you."

I took to my feet and made for home." I don't expect you to understand. So, I'm going to make this point very clear, okay?"

"What is it?" he asked.

"Not here" I mumbled. We kept walking till I wandered to a secluded area unlikely to be disturbed by any of the party patrons. "Give me the disc. The one Nack returned with from the mission" I demanded with an outstretched hand. Stiffly, he complied. I pocketed it.

As soon as the delicate disc was safely absconded away I pushed him into the side of a tree. He had just enough presence of mind to let loose a grunt of surprise before one of my arms was drawn across his throat. The other I drew back, bunching it into a fist.

"Are you trying to dictate the way I lead my life? Do you intend to turn my entire life into fighting this war, Mr St. John?!" I snorted, my hot breath ruffling the skunk fur. "It's me, and everyone I care about isn't it? It's Tails who fears his aunt never coming back from a botched mission. It's Sonic who you fault for not risking his life every day. I'm not a chess piece for you to toy with!" the knuckles of my fist whitened.

"If you're going to hit me, just do it.," he said keeping his hands in a non-threatening posture in an attempt to ameliorate the deteriorating situation.

"Hit you? I wouldn't do that." My fist loosened and, finally, fell. "I could never go out of my way to hurt you." I turned to walk away. "Apparently that's your job."

He didn't stop me. Maybe it was wrong of me to assume Sonic might just up and leave if I didn't fawn and dote over him like his posse of admirers. That just wasn't his style.

No, I wasn't giving him enough credit. He wouldn't abandon us …would he? I am reasonably sure I could trust him with my life. I know some of that faith came from Sally. No matter how hard I try I'll probably never be able to fully untangle myself from that. Still, in spite of knowing that, I was reasonably sure I liked him on my own terms … a lot. But that wasn't the same as knowing someone. How well did I understand any of my fellow Freedom Fighters, except Bunnie? Bunnie, who lied to me.

Were any of them really my friends?

Still, in spite of my conundrum, I knew we still had to fight for our freedom. The truce wouldn't alter this. We have to fight. All of us. No matter the cost.


	15. The Offer

**The Offer**

The party was still going strong. But any lingering desire I had of indulging in the revelries, partaking in psychedelia, drinking myself to inebriation and dancing till I hurled had evaporated. My hut was brightly lit and the others had gone ahead without me. I was obscenely late. Mentally, I had prepared an apology only to be interrupted by a full body hug by a pink hedgehog. I gasped. It was like being run through a wringer.

"I'm here if you need me," Amy whispered.

Eventually, the bubbly pink hedgehog released her vice-like grip. I gasped, giving her a forced smile. "Why thank you Amy." A strain of discomfort and dread crept in my quiet tone. I attempted to appreciate her positivity, though it wasn't meshing well with my disposition.

"Err Sally, are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

Amy … when you told me you used the Ring of Acorns to wish yourself older. I bit my tongue to keep myself from screaming and tasted blood. Why didn't you wish for something else. Heck, you could have wished Sonic to be your boyfriend and reality would be shifted to conform to your every whim.

Amy must have interpreted my constipated expression for unease because she immediately started yakking away. "Now, don't be such a sacredly tail. Cuz you're among friends and have absolutely nothing to be afraid of!" Amy tried to reassure, but her jarring delivery only made me flinch.

"I would prefer if-"

"Why, of course, you do friend," she interrupted in a tone I interpreted as condescending. Was she trying to be amusing? Had she been reassigned from a nursery? Did she also suffer from a brain aneurysm? As she continued to talk, my eyes rolled upwards in despair. "Say, are you saying that if you didn't know, I'd have to tell it to you for you to know? Didn't I already-"

"Zip it," I cut in tersely.

"Hey now don't be such a crab-apple."

"Didn't you hear me?" I interrupted grouchily.

"Sure, I heard you, sis, and—"

"Sis?" I let loose an exasperated groan.

"Oh right, silly me," she remarked in a mirthful tone. "You're our real-life princess! Now, where are my manners?" Amy curtsied respectfully.

I held out my hand to stop her "Amy, please understand," I said as amiably as I could. "It has never been a lack of formality that bothers me. It's just that your flippant attitude is inappropriate, and . . . well, creepy." Undesiring to start an educative tirade, undoubtedly featuring many snide remarks masquerading as advice, I simply got to the point: "Please, your silence will do me better than anything you could possibly say, so, please. Stop. Talking."

"Are you okay? I don't know how. But if I've offended you then I'm really sorry," she relayed apologetically, her tone traceless of the highly irksome glee she had earlier.

"Peachy Amy, just peachy," I mumbled in an aggravated tone. I took conscious control of my auricular muscles, willing my pinnae flat and against my head. Honestly, I couldn't say that I was too sorry about deflating her mood as she turned her attention morosely to an enormous dollop of soft-serve ice-cream. Almost immediately, I felt my pinnae relax.

Rotor seemed to be all smiles as he went up to me, giving me a congratulatory squeeze of the shoulders, handing NICOLE to me intact. "You're a miracle worker, Rotor," I commented with genuine gratitude.

Antoine seemed in high-spirits as he ran a yellowed finger down the hemline of his resplendent, newly pressed Freedom Fighter uniform. "Nothing but zee best for my princess," he remarked, stepping forth and extending his hand for a congratulatory handshake.

"Antoine you're staying after this," I snapped as I gave his outstretched hand a firm squeeze.

"Zee princess wishes to see me privately?" he asked as he withdrew his hand and stared downcast at his well-shined boots.

I nodded.

Then Bunnie on her wheelchair shot me 'the look'. The kind that meant you and me somewhere private and don't ask any questions. "Ah need ta use the lil ladies, Sally Girl, if ya don't mind."

"Sorry everyone, please excuse us for a minute," I said as I stepped into my bathroom, NICOLE in hand.

" **Did I disappoint you Sally**?" The palm pad chirped to life and I nearly dropped her in surprise. I frowned. While NICOLE was preternaturally good at predicting what tangential questions to ask if a prior question had been raised, she had never independently raised a question before.

"NICOLE, I feel that Rotor may have inadvertently adjusted some of your personality parameters, please revert to your original settings," I instructed.

" **Negative Sally, my purpose is to serve you and your actions have compromised my ability to do that. Please comply with the request.** "

"NICOLE, please run your diagnostic programme." NICOLE might have been acting up, but she would never refuse a direct order from me.

"YES SALLY," the palm pad stated emotionlessly. "RUNNING."

"What the hay was that all about?" Bunnie asked.

"I think Rotor's repairs have had a few unexpected side effects on NICOLE."

"So, it's like a virus?"

 **"Diagnostic completed. No Bunnie, it wasn't a virus. I've identified the anomalies as previously inactive modules. I've partitioned them off from my systems and reverted to my original settings**."

 _Additional modules huh, that was news. Maybe an even bigger discovery than when Sally unlocked the 'racy' portion of NICOLE's library archive when she was of age. What? Don't look at me like that! Sally had an entirely normal, active curiosity about herself._

"Good, keep it that way. When I have the time I'll investigate and determine if these should be kept."

"UNDERSTOOD SALLY," NICOLE chirped before going into her standby mode.

"Sorry Bunnie, NICOLE's been on the fritz recently."

"No problem. Ah know how important that lil ole thing is to ya. Besides, what happened here? Did you break your mirror? And is that … blood on the floor?"

I'm not naive enough to think Sally's friends wouldn't catch on. I had gotten three days respite from the incident but that was it. Surprisingly, my resolution to hide the situation from them was just as strong as the night I had decided on it. That meant I needed to pretend.

"It's an accident," I stated, peering over to the stubborn stain.

"Yer sure? That sure looks like a lot of blood from a … shaving accident?"

I shook my head, changing the subject. "You weren't at the party? I thought you loved them."

Bunnie sighed. "Ah'd love a soirée any day, but today ah'm simply not in the mood."

I wondered how to broach the topic to her and settled upon letting her take the lead. "Look, sorry about the bathroom. It's not soundproof, but it's private enough for our purposes."

My reassuring tone seemed to do the trick. She visibly relaxed, blinking and leaning back. "Do ya remember we used ta read together? King Arthur's knights, Maid Marion, Charlemagne's paladins, and the Tales of the Brother Grimm's..."

"I've always loved them. Dad used to read to me Alice in Wonderland and Gulliver's Travels." I frowned, a tang of pain, sharp and gratuitous scrubbed away my smile. "My dad . . ."

"Ya remember Prince Charming? How he strode through that crystal ballroom, his bride in hand?"

I nodded. "I remember him. I thought he was silly."

"Ah thought he was wonderful. Ah want mah wedding ta be like that. Ah'd wear a beautiful white gown covered with ribbons. Everyone would gawk as I walk up the aisle. Waiting for me at the altar, of course, would be the kindest, most wonderful, refined and gallant gentleman that evah was. Oh, what a day that would be!" Bunnie gushed, clasping her biological hand on her mechanical digits.

I levelled with the farm bunny giving her a platonic peck on the nose. "It does sound lovely."

"Yer so lucky Sally Girl. You'll be married like that someday, ta our own real-life prince charming. It's all in yer books, too. Yer a princess, and every princess finds her prince." Bunnie stared, starry-eyed.

"I … I don't know what to tell you, Bunnie. I don't have a Prince Charming."

"None? But ah thought ya got married to sugah hog when we were kids?"

"No, it was only a play wedding. No one except Antoine was confused." I said firmly. "Besides, Prince Charming is a character from a story, Bunnie. He's fictional," I corrected, trying to snap the normally level-headed belle back to reality.

Bunnie waved her arm dismissively. "Ah sometimes find mahself thinkin if true luv is fictional too."

"Of course it's not and you of all people should -"

"Well that was till ah met sugah Twan. He wus the first ta look past all this -" she motioned to her roboticized lower body "- and luv me for jus who ah'm." Bunnie smiled tiredly, humming to herself, rocking back and forth before snorting. "Amy has a beautiful white dress. She says she made it ta look jus like a real wedding dress . . . can I tell ya something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"A secret?"

"You know I won't tell."

"Sometimes ah sneak into her wardrobe put her dress on, and pretend ah'm getting married."

"Are you alright?" I asked and Bunnie's smile vanished in the fugacious limelight.

"Ah spoke with Rotor." Bunnie's voice shook. "It might be months or years before Rotor could get the de-roboticizer working. Much too long fer me."

I felt a lump in my throat. "You know, I could try again. Only this time, Robotnik would never -"

"No!" Bunnie protested, cutting off my prattle. "Mah conscience couldn't handle putting any more lives at risk. Specially yours. Yer need ta know yer not an acceptable casualty. Not compared ta me."

The two of us fell silent, I rose to my feet, gingerly extricating the photo of the original Freedom Fighters where it lay face-down. I thumbed over a grinning Bunnie wearing a Stetson. She had an arm wrapped around the coyote. "You want me to talk to Antoine, don't you?"

"Ah want a wedding 'fore Doc Quack puts me under the knife so y'all remember me this way and not as a -" her nose scrunched up in disgust -cripple."

"It's not the end of the world you know. Rotor can still fix you up with prosthetics. It won't be as good as the originals but-."

"Yeah, Rotor the dear told me that. But please, promise me you'll do it."

"Of course, Bunnie, anything for you. If there's anyone here deserving of happiness. It's you."

"Aww shucks. Ah feel honoured ta have a friend like you."

At that moment I felt my stomach clench up in knots. A pall of sickness and nausea swept over me. "You know you shouldn't. It doesn't always work out so well for princesses, you know. In the stories, the princess gets the prince, but in real life, the prince isn't quite so loyal as she thinks he is. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about."

She frowned deeply, "Sugah … what's biting yer? You're always tellin us to love and hope."

I pulled the flush chain, daring myself to speak only when the water closet would muffle my voice "Do," I hissed. "Do all that. But never trust a man." I rose to my feet. "Now I'm leaving, I haven't had cake yet."

* * *

I emerged from behind the partitioning curtain.

"With all this partying going on one would think we blew up the moon," I heard Rotor's jovial tone followed thereafter by a loud pop as he pierced a soda can with one of his tusks, sipping the frothing liquid as it spilt through. I heard Geoffrey's hoarse laughter with Antoine staring blankly, waiting for the joke to be explained to him. The three of us were the only ones old enough to get that reference. But I wasn't in the mood.

"Listen up," I called. "Gather round, we're having a meeting." At once, everyone paused in their activities, their faces lined with worry as they crowded close. I cleared my throat, staring at the ground for almost a full minute.

"Is something wrong, Sally?" Amy asked being the first to break the pervasive silence.

I looked up. "We're dying."

A wave of murmurs and whispers washed across Sally's friends.

"You don't realize it, but we are." I paced back and forth. "In the past, we've relied upon the vastness of the Great Forest to mask our operations. Well, Robotnik is encroaching upon us. His agents have already compromised Freedom Fighter HQ. I know this because the Pack and I stopped them. Lobo killed Fiona."

I paused, clenching and unclenching my fists. "And I killed her partner, Scourge." I revealed my weapon complete with a sizeable dent. Gasps of disbelief followed as I brought it close enough to touch and Sally's friends shied away, recoiling as it approached, almost as though it was tainted with miasma.

"Our home is in constant peril!" I shouted. "Do you think life will carry on like nothing has happened? Do you think life going forward will be nothing but parties and games? Do you think we can spend all our time frolicking in the meadows and chasing butterflies in the glades? It doesn't work like that!"

I pumped a fist toward the forbidding column of cloud in the distance. "Friends, do you not see? The Overlander's cities lie shattered amid piles of twisted girders and concrete. Angel Island has plummeted from the sky. The Pack are homeless and are all but decimated. Knothole is the one bright spot in all of Mobius. But Robotnik has built a device called a Death Egg that can render all that moot. And when he arrives, the goodness here will die out with us, just like it had with Mobotropolis."

"Sally," cried Rotor in dismay, "just what are you saying. Aren't you gonna be happy on your big day?"

"That's not nice, going on like this!" Amy exclaimed.

"That's exactly why I'm telling you all this. It's about all of you. We'll need to start getting organized to overcome this threat. No more fighting, no more bickering. We'll need to find a replacement for Bunnie who I'm sure everyone is aware is in poor health. This is a crisis we've ignored for entirely too long. Starting tomorrow, we'll collect nominations and vote."

"Ah'll provide advice for mah replacement so they won't muck everything up," Bunnie suggested as she emerged from behind the curtain.

"Whatever Bunnie," I huffed. "I don't care."

"We'll need actual warriors for the battles ahead and some of us here-" I paused staring squarely at Antoine, "-clearly don't belong. There'll be no more room for weak links. The next time we battle Robotnik it'll be for keeps and I will no longer tolerate freeloading and mooching."

With a sharp cry, Antoine pushed his way till he stood before me. "Sally, princez please-"

"And as for you," I said, marching toward him, "things are definitely going to change. No more sleeping on the job and leaving the community to fend for themselves. Where were you when Tails was nearly abducted by Robotnik? Where were you when we needed a lookout and Tommy was killed?"

He cowered and silently lowered his head. "I'll tell you where you were," I said. "You were huddled in a corner and claiming false credit for the actions of others."

"But I saved Tails when Charles was-" he mumbled in protest.

"You were a liability to the rescue. You placed everyone at risk," I snapped. "No more. You're staying right here. You've got your own job to do." I huffed, staring him down and trying to control my simmering rage. "We'll need a cook. That's your job. Your only job. I suspect it's all you're good for."

I turned away from him and with eyes to the ground, I added, "Everyone who is unsuited to be a warrior shall support those that are. That is all."

Written across the faces of Sally's friends were notes of bewilderment, disbelief, and concern ... concern for me. They failed to grasp the gravity of the situation and why I was berating them for it. My shoulders slumped. With the notable exception of Rotor, none had ever travelled beyond the borders of the Kingdom. Intellectually, the places I listed were nebulous, vague entities. They never set foot on Angel Island. They did not speak to any of the Echidna's living there. They did not appreciate the lost art and culture established by the isolationist Echidnas, swallowed up by briny sea foam.

"I'll run the debriefing Sir Charles has generously provided to us so you'll understand. Hello NICOLE," I greeted. The scanner lit up and ran itself over the contours of my face.

"HELLO SALLY," the palm pad chirped to life.

"Please play," I instructed upon inserting the disk.

"ONE MOMENT …PLAYING [Intro]," The A.I. chirped before her inbuilt projector lit up revealing a large blue expanse which coalesced into a vibrant coral reef straight from a nature documentary.

All around were projections of swift-darting schools of fish which reflected the dappled sunlight from above. Sharks prowled, stingrays seemed to fly, squid pulsated, crabs scuttled across fabulous extrusions of coral; Sir Charles's voice sounded younger during his narration of the wonders of Dowunda's Reefs. I realized it must've been recorded while he once travelled the world as a globetrotter.

 _Lovely._

And then, as quickly as we had been plunged into the ocean, NICOLE projected an image of the Afrikan savannah where hawks and eagles and buzzards wheeled overhead a vast field of swaying grass which glimmered golden in sunlight that forced you to smile at the sheer energy of it all.

 _Look at it._

The next scene morphed into dense jungle vegetation revealing a hint, and only a hint, of the wild expanses of Amazonia. Snakes as long as a person slithered across tree branches. The sounds of frogs, insects, and wild, screaming birds acted as the natural backdrop.

 _Wondrous_ _._

Then Sir Charles returned us to civilization, to locales both familiar and exotic. The villages of the Pack, open-aired ziggurats of the Felidae cat folk, the steel jungle cities of the Overlanders, the majesty of floating Angel Island, the mountains of the Dragon Kingdom, a rock concert by teenage superstar Mina Mongoose in Mobotropolis, and peace accords with the Overlanders in Acorn Castle.

A compendium of Sir Charles's long and storied life.

Finally, the spliced together video paused at a single still image. A painting of purple flowers. Irises I think. Sally wasn't really a connoisseur of the arts but even she could appreciate the skill of the artist in capturing a portion of their beauty on canvas.

Mobians are an endangered species. Soon you will disappear," Sir Charles narrated.

No one said anything.

"[Intro Ended] PLAY DEATH EGG SCHEMATICS SALLY?"

"Play, please," I confirmed.

NICOLE projected an image of a giant metal ball complete with concave eye-sockets, a sharp nose, and a mile-long moustache of hardened steel. I wasn't sure whether or not to snigger at the dictator's vanity. However, there was no hint of amusement in Sir Charles's voice as he droned on about its armaments. I won't bore you with the nitty-gritty details. Essentially, it was a giant weapon platform bristling with guns out the wazoo and capable of detecting and destroying any threat even without a complimentary escort.

"I … that's very nice," Rotor started. "But just what is Sir Charles saying?"

"He's a conservationist," I explained quietly. "When natural habitats disappear, people intervene to try to stop species from going extinct. Relocation programs, zoos, hunting bans, laws to stop deforestation. That sort of thing."

"Robotnik is more advanced than you. He will continue his scheme of roboticizing every free-living creature. The Freedom Fighters will try to stop him, but they will fail. Robotnik will win. And soon, the only Mobians left would be what you now call Robians," Sir Charles warned.

I had stopped breathing. The way he said it... it was like you couldn't argue. Like you couldn't say anything. He spoke every word with utter and complete certainty.

He wasn't guessing. He knew we were going to lose.

"NICOLE, evacuation plan."

"[Playback Stop] YES SALLY," the palm pad chirped before projecting an image of a portal.

"He's telling us we're doomed?" Geoffrey asked gruffly. _He didn't get it._

"I'll be able to preserve small sample of our race within a pocket dimension remarkably like our own but significantly smaller. You would be free to propagate in peace just as any species should." Sir Charles continued to narrate.

"Alright NICOLE, that'll be enough. We'll stop there."

"YES SALLY," the palm pad acknowledged before stopping the presentation.

"This is ridiculous," Geoffrey said angrily. "Maybe he's trying to do the right thing, but he can't just tell us to make a decision like this."

All eyes were on me. When you fight alongside someone for long enough, you get a feel for their body language. Apart from Sonic himself, I knew the philosopher the best. Sally's friends were taking their cues from me. Whatever I said next would influence the debate. I knew Sir Charles was trying to protect us and force a yes. That he used scare and intimidation techniques to do so shouldn't detract from his noble intentions. But like Sally, I'm not a fan of being goaded into making a choice that was not my own.

"He means well," I began, a note of bitterness creeping into my tone. "But that's how he operates, presenting us with a false choice. A choice that's no choice at all, then claiming it's all our decision when it's our turn to act. But I assure you I'll have a plan by tomorrow that'll turn Robotnik's greatest weapon into the Freedom Fighter's greatest asset. Our final victory."

"Ah'll start. Ah vote yes," Bunnie said, with sharp, angry defiance. "Ah won't stand anyone using mah friends' affection for me as a tool."

Instantaneously, I felt undermined when rather than discussions of infiltrations and stealth missions, she tried to convince my friends to listen to her and retreat. She may as well have stabbed me in the heart. To surrender to that vile man who murdered our people. Equally though, a part of me thought she may have been right. She saw much, lost so much. She knew better than I where the fine dividing line lay between a risky and hopeless cause. But I made my decision and it still feels so right. Yes, you could say I have my pride, but I am realistic. I knew that having six intelligent, experienced minds was better than relying entirely upon my own flawed perception.

"Let's think this over," I said reasonably. "We can't make a snap decision just because we're upset."

"Do you understand that? He's talking about us becoming extinct," Rotor commented.

"If I had to choose between saving the world and Sonic, I would choose Sonic! And Sonic would want me to be brave so I support Sally," Amy exclaimed. What she said touched me, but it also made me feel that every death and injury we would undoubtedly sustain would be my fault.

"So, we have two votes no, Amy and Sal, one vote yes from Bunnie and myself," Rotor counted.

I remember looking up at Geoffrey. I saw encouragement in his eyes. He knew I was barely suppressing my grief, rage, and guilt. I managed to convince my friends I was level-headed, but he could see how close I was to cracking under the strain. I simply can't allow relocation to be the price. I can't set a precedent like that. I can't accept uprooting my people from this great, supernatural gift. Yes, that protection may be of dubious value now, but isn't there more to this place than that? This is what Aunt Rosie chose for us. Doesn't that make this hallowed ground? She was our shepherd, our guide. If we give it up, how will it be construed?

Would she consider me a failure?

"What this character wants us to do is run away," Geoffrey declared. "He exploits our emotions just to save ourselves and the people we care about personally."

"Guys, I know how you feel," Rotor commented, "But this isn't running away. Here, we choose whether Robotnik gets either almost everyone or everyone. Do we really want to sacrifice our species just because we're upset at how we were approached when given the chance to save everyone?"

"This was always insane, right from the start," Rotor noted. "It's like we're a bunch of kids trying to fill into our parent's shoes. We're fighting an army of robots that have already beaten every organised bastion of resistance on the planet. Look at what's happening. Tommy's dead. Bunnies sick and Sally drinks to get away from her problems."

"You're not my mother, Rotor. I'm of responsible drinking age and it was just the one time," I growled and was met with more concerned stares. Maybe Sally's friends expected her to be the responsible teetotaller providing lectures on how alcohol was one of society's greatest stumbling blocks, causing violence, health problems, and even death. I honestly didn't care.

"Look I admit some of that was my fault and it's not just you alright? The other night I woke up in bed, and wondered whether if anything I'm doing is worth-while."

"Of course it is Rotor, what you do is important," I said as I felt my unbridled fury melted away.

"See this?" Bunnie raised up her arm and pointed to a scar. "I got this from a rat. Its leg was broken from a trap. It bit me. Chuck's a smart man. Ah mean no offence ta any of ya but maybe she needs ta consider what he's saying."

"We're not rats." I stated.

"Aren't we?" Rotor challenged. "Compared to Robotnik? Chuck is trying to get us out of the hyperbolic trap? We're talking about the extinction of our species he –"

"We can't give up," I argued stubbornly.

"All we ever do is lose," Rotor commented. "We annoy Robotnik. Maybe we blow up a factory. But his invasion marches on. All we ever do is barely escape with our lives. It's like we're some baseball team that never wins a game and now we know it's going to be a whole losing season." Rotor huffed, leaned back, and looked over to Antoine where he sat in a dazed stupor. "What about you Antoine, you've been pretty quiet. What do you say?"

"Eez zis a vote? I'll follow the Princez." He shot me a nervous look, almost as though he believed his imagined punishment to be mitigated, reduced in some capacity if he offered his blind, uncompromising obedience. If I had ever come to a low opinion of him before ... well, let's just say I just struck bedrock.

"Gosh dang it Twan, ah don't let no naysayer push me around. Yer gotta stand-up for yourself," Bunnie protested while I shook my head in disbelief.

Geoffrey spoke up. "If this were a democracy practising an unbiased voting system, to which we're not, I count four nays, two yesses, and one abstention from Maurice so that would be Sir Charles's plan decisively canned then."

"Fer now and it's Sonic, you oaf. We all call him that cept you. Ah'll insist upon a revote tomorrow when Sonic shows up," Bunnie added, shooting both Geoffrey and me a nasty look.

"Enough!" I shouted stepping between the two of them. "The two of you back-off. It's late. We'll go home, think about it, and meet again tomorrow evening to hash out all the details."

Murmurs of affirmation followed as Sally's friends dusted themselves off and made for the door. "I would like to be with Bunnie." The coyote shot me a pleading look.

"If you leave, Antoine. I'll never forgive you," I cautioned.

Antoine froze up, shooting Bunnie a forlorn sidelong glance before sheepishly slinking over to where I stood, arms folded and foot tapping away. Bunnie shifted in protest. "Sugah Twan's had a long day. Maybe ya can continue in the mornin when-" Bunnie's plea caught in her throat at my venomous stare. She knew that her friend was in full 'princess' mode, impermeable to pleas and bargaining.

"It's alright, I can take things from here," Rotor commented before doing the honours of wheeling Bunnie away. I don't know which was worse, the fact that I had sent Bunnie seemingly into a state of shock or the pitying sidelong glance Rotor had shot the coyote, like that of a condemned criminal.

Geoffrey was last to leave. He scratched persistently at the back of his neck, wringing his arms repeatedly. But I was in no mood to entertain him. "Can you withhold your questions for tomorrow?"

"I… yes I suppose so, Sally" he began as he made for the door "I'll certainly have a lot to think about."

"Yes, yes you do," I muttered under my breath.

* * *

"Another scolding?" Antoine asked when the two of us were finally alone.

"Scolding?!" I growled incredulously at his presumption. "You're not a little boy anymore and when I request your presence it's always a matter of great importance, not a suggestion."

The coyote baulked, staring sorrowfully at his feet as though he expected to receive a deluge of verbal abuse. I stared at the floor, gathering my thoughts. "You're not fighting," I said at last.

"Even Tails fights," he reasoned.

"Tails does lookout duties and apprentices under Rotor." I smiled a sad bittersweet smile, feeling the unearned joy of a doting parent. "Our little fox is quite the mechanical savant himself. Who knows, maybe someday he can get the old biplane airworthy again. But he doesn't fight."

"Why?" he asked again, like a dim-witted student repeating a question and expecting a different answer.

"Because you can't," I said "Do you know where a SWATbot's sensitive electronics are located? Do you know what the most common Buzz Bomber attack patterns and how to evade them?" To emphasize, I moved my finger to his throat and positioned my elbow at the top of his diaphragm, pointing upward. "Do you know where our most vital organs are? Do you know that stabbing upward from under the rib cage will kill us in less than a minute?" Antoine baulked and looked down.

"And even if you did know all that, would you be able to do it?" I whispered. "If a collaborator came at you. If it wasn't a game, if it wasn't a training scenario, if it were real, would you kill?"

Antoine frowned, a deep look of concentration coming over him. "I think so," he said at last. I shook my head at his delusions. Surely, he was aware he was being mollycoddled, kept away from danger. "I can fight," he insisted, looking steeled, determined, and bitter. "I can be just as brave as the others."

"You're not fighting, I'm not cruel enough to place totally inexperienced lives on the line. Just like you Antoine. I'm not cruel enough to make you fight."

"I think you're a good leader," he said at last. "I trust you-" a deep look of concentration came over his features, "-implicitly and I would do anything you ask. But I'll fight even if you say no."

"Antoine, it's not that simple you know." I pause. "When I was in Robotropolis I recovered some of your father's personal effects." I sighed, drew a deep breath and reached into my mantelpiece unveiling the medal before his wide-eyed gaze.

Did Antoine ever imagine his father, blade in hand, protecting his people from an unstoppable horde of robots? Or did he imagine him being stunned and dragged helplessly into the roboticizer. I gripped the sides of his head, placing my thumb and index fingers around his ears, and gave a hug to quiet him. Antoine tried to pull his head back, but I didn't let go until he gave a faint whimper from the back of his throat, as though he were gasping for air.

"Robotnik killed my father, makes others into slaves. Are you like Robotnik?" he asked, the rage in his voice radiating like the heat from an oven, making my side from the armpit down to the knee uncomfortably hot. His eyelids were half lowered and he breathed steadily and deeply. I dug a hand deep into his scruff and squeezed him tight. The other I laid against his crumpled uniform to feel his muscles twitch and the rise and fall of his ribs.

Sally had often lain with a fellow Freedom Fighter tucked against her in this way. The night in Knothole, she had nestled alone in her bed, which was as soft as a cloud and smelt of lavender but awoke the next morning to find Bunnie's nose against her cheek. It seemed strange at first. But in time she came to realise that in some ways, they still weren't too much different from their distant ancestors. Mobians may have lived in houses, talked, and wore clothes; but they were still herd animals, and herd animals were always hungry for company.

"I wasn't brave when I faced him, Antoine." I trembled feeling the memory of Robotnik etched into my mind. "I was scared out of my wits."

"I never knew you were so scared," he breathed.

"I was scared," I muttered under my breath, "but I had to do the right thing."

Antoine paused, shaking his head. The whiskers on his muzzle tickling my chin. I frowned and looked down into his eyes. His nose an inch from my own. "You didn't want to do the right thing. Not when you were there," he protested. "You were just angry."

I swallowed and my hands trembled. "Yes. . ."

He nestled closer. "I know my father killed sometimes to protect us. It was like you were him. In his place. He wasn't there, so you did what he would've done. I was angry, like how you were angry. But I felt awful, and I realized I wasn't angry at you so much. I was angry at Dad because he wasn't there when I needed him even though I knew he was trying to save us." Tears brimmed in his eyes. "I needed him. Who's going to tell me if I'm brave?"

"You're brave Antoine. He didn't leave you on purpose. He wanted to protect you," I assuaged.

Antoine's tears ran down his face till they soaked into my gown. "Yes." Antoine closed his eyes as if trying to sleep, or perhaps recapturing a vision. "I think you're what it's like to have a mother. Sometimes, I think how lucky Tails is to have parents." His mouth twisted wistfully. "And I wonder if I shall ever have-"

"You might." My stomach clenched as I gave him a half-hearted pat meant to be reassuring. "Someday you'll have kids of your own. You'll make a good father. Besides, you love Tails, don't you?"

"I don't think he likes me as much compared to Sonic, Bunnie, and you."

"He'll come around," I promised.

"Princez," Antoine's voice almost a whimper as he met my eyes. "You hate your father, don't you?"

My stomach clenched again. Only this time, it stayed that way becoming at once hard, painful knot. I chewed on my tongue for a moment before I answered, "Yes." The word came out as a low, long hiss.

"Could you not, please?" Antoine touched my sternum. "You hurt people when you get angry."

"Don't you fret, Antoine. I'm not going to hurt anybody." I drew a deep breath. "Besides, it would be nice, now that you're going to be a father, a husband-to-be if you acted like one."

At last, he looked up at me. In his face, I saw genuine confusion. He slowly shook his head back and forth. "Acted? Like a father? What do you mean? How is a father supposed to act?"

 _Damn you, Antoine, you knew didn't you. You abetted her, didn't you? You were helping her with chores during your off hours. That's why you were always falling asleep._

Inside my chest, something clenched into a knot. A sharp and painful sensation gushed through my limbs. Sally's people and sometimes even her enemies would often ask questions. Before now, I had always taught friendship, tolerance, love, and peace. But to this question, I had nothing to say. I righted myself, slapped my leg, and felt my voice crack as I said, "Never mind, Antoine. You're acting like a father right now!"

Instantaneously, I felt a deep pang of regret. "Please don't do this to me," I whispered remorsefully. "I'm not losing you like Tommy. I need you to stay here with Bunnie."

"Please not zis, princez. Anything but zis."

"You can't live in a fairy tale, Antoine," I whispered. "You know that."

"Can't zere be an exception?" Antoine languidly squeezed my thigh.

I pressed a cheek against his. "Then everyone will want to be an exception.

Antoine's ears drooped, and he heaved a great groan. "Why?" he asked half a plea and half a cry of indignation. "Why are you doing is?"

"You already know why. Everything I do is for you," I whispered.

"You don't have to do zis," Antoine said.

"No," I answered, "I couldn't." I squeezed Antoine tightly. "Whatever I have to do to protect you, I will do." I swallowed down a lump in my throat and felt a tear coursing down my face. "Even if I have to hurt you." I said laying a hand onto his head.


	16. Balance of Power

**Balance Of Power**

Integrating new denizens. That's the favourite part of my otherwise thankless job. There's a selfish, positive and uplifting feeling of accomplishment watching Mobians formerly bound for the Roboticizer to laugh, cry and prance; free in their new homes. I know it's dangerous and self-serving to accredit such success to myself. But it's the only form of positive feedback I get.

Immigrants usually came in dribs and drabs. No more than two to five. Individuals were dangerous. They could be collaborators; working for Robotnik. Large groups were dangerous in their own right. They were usually marauders; seeking loot and plunder. To top it all off, most genuine immigrants were destitute, often arriving with little more than the clothes on their back. It's no surprise really. Those who had the means of travel often had little reason to do so. Consequently, some who came were criminals and exiles.

Owing to their negative connotations, immigrants were typically looked down upon. Though perhaps that would have been the case even if they didn't arrive with implicit stains on their records. Immigrants were naturally outsiders, unfamiliar with Knothole's customs, possessing vernaculars that marked them as foreign. Assimilation happened slowly. But the process was inevitable. Eventually, no one would remember that the immigrant hadn't been there all along.

The Pack were a different matter entirely. They were large and culturally distinct enough to sustain a community of their own. A community which would resist assimilation. Worse still was that in spite of the ordeal they had endured. They maintained a leader in Lobo. A figure who would provide guidance and solidarity in a time of crisis. It might have been one thing if he were kind, amicable and gentle. But it was clear Lobo was none of these things.

He surrounded himself with sycophants and flatterers who stoked the insatiable fiery appetite of his ego. He spoke harshly and decisively, sparing no kind words for outsiders. If the refugees were a rotten fruit of a problem; Lobo was the hardened pit at the centre. "I do not much like your organization," he noted to murmurs of affirmation. "There's no clear chain of command" he complained to encouraging nods from his fawners. I was used to barbs and jabs. But Lobo behaved like a drunkard. The type typically escorted out well before they became a nuisance.

If I had hoped to find the Pack in my debt, I was left sorely disappointed. A more cynical me would have taken up Lobo's earlier offer; turning the Pack loose with a modicum of supplies. The trouble was my conscience, which would not allow the Pack to face yet another dangerous trek through the wilderness. On his part, Lobo was well aware of his precarious position: that of a poor relation forced to kowtow to a rich relation, lest he be cut off. Consequently, his criticisms were muted and his venomous rhetoric couched behind calls for solidarity.

It was for this reason the tour was kept short. I showed them only the bare essentials; the latrines, the mess hall and outlined the vague and ever in flux boundaries of our home as defined by the truce. At the conclusion of the tour, I spoke as respectfully as I could, having no desire to remonstrate with Lobo. "While I admire your earnest feedback, I have other pressing appointments to attend to. If it is not at all opposed to you, I'd gladly arrange a suitable time and place where we may weigh the relative merits of our different forms of governance," this earned me a dismissive grunt.

Undeterred by the tepid reception I opted to press home my request. "I'll need a favour of you. While I'm widely read, I'm sure there're canards I could address were I to confer with someone from the Pack, privately." At my request, Lobo harrumphed, leaving Lupe to arrange an interview with Lyco whom I was assured was the more out-going among the twins.

* * *

With my interview secured and the monumental task of finding room and lodging for the Pack delegated to competent hands, it was now midmorning. Hot sunlight streamed from the sky. Flickies chirruped gaily in the trees, butterflies flitted amongst the wildflowers, and a light refreshing wind blew. In all respects, it was a normal day, save for one important thing: the war had taken an indefinite hiatus.

Antoine had gone down to the creek, apparently to sulk, and Bunnie followed presumably to console. My head hurt and thanks to sleep deprivation - a blurry film obscured my vision. Swaying back and forth. I trudged to the water pump taking a sip, raising my arms and letting the rest of the water trickle through my hair. It would be a long, hot day. Unless I figured out a way to hurry through my next unpleasant appointment, I would be forced to take my lunch there away from Sally's friends. I can't help but think that might be a good thing after all. As last night, Knothole saw a historic watershed moment in its storied history. Bunnie announced her wedding plans.

Geoffrey jogged up just as I had gathered my lunch of freshly picked corn from the fields. He stood before me, clearing his throat to gather my attention. "I find the ways you do things troubling. All too often, you allow others to overstep their bounds" he commented. It was a rebuke, but a private one given among friends.

"Delegation is an important skill as a leader, you told me that." I retorted. It wasn't the first time I had quoted something back to him and it certainly wouldn't be the last. If he were more cunning, he would have counterattacked. But we had been through enough of this song and dance to know that invariably my silver-tongue would end up winning.

Just in case, I had potential arguments planned out. Had he claimed delegation arose without orders I would reply that any position implied delegation when unforeseen events arose. It was, for this reason, Sally argued why rigid adherence to written policy was unimportant. In her view, people weren't interested in policy, but rather someone who would engage with it on their behalf.

No more questions came through, and that appeared to be that. With Geoffrey on the scene, my role was diminished to that of a figurehead. Still, I had achieved my goal of achieving a physical presence. All in all, I was pleased Hamlin had taken the initiative to draw up a census. Not just their needs but also the lay of their organization and the people within his orbit who could be deputized. Hamlin's work still left much to be desired. But he had tried to the best of his ability to account for their physical conditions and prior occupation. This was invaluable information which would refine our integration plans.

"We need to arrange temporary housing" I informed.. "It's standard procedure to reimburse a portion of the upkeep of a guest, just so it won't be a hardship on the hosting family"

"Yes, though it might be unworkable given it's the largest influx we've had in years. Besides, Lobo seems really upset with you. Any theories as to why?" Geoffrey asked while perusing through a set of handwritten notes.

"It's an erosion of his power" I postulated. "There'll be a diaspora, separating the members of the Pack from their chief. But it'll only be for a time."

What was key was loosening Lobo's unwelcome stranglehold over his people. The most direct means of accomplishing this being by approaching them while they were at their most desperate and vulnerable. Alone, in a foreign land with offers of citizenship. Their signatures would then by the alchemy of bureaucracy morph then into regular residents without Lobo's interference. But such underhanded tactics were distasteful to me. Besides, a smooth transition would only be possible with his support and I had a plan that might appeal to him.

* * *

He wasn't hard to find. In my absence, Lobo had seized his opportunity to give an impromptu speech on an overturned crate which formed a makeshift podium. The Pack listened but there were citizens of Knothole among them as well. "We've have been beaten," he declared. "But we'll be stronger from our scars. We've been broken but we'll be mended, stronger from our experiences. We've been exiled. But we'll be stronger from the journey." It was a speech of martyrdom.

Lobo had cast his people not just as survivors but as righteous victims of a cold and uncaring world. Yet, the message was not one with a silver lining. Within his speech, were criticisms of Knothole's 'decadent' ways. It was a poignant distinction to draw. After all, the Pack would be hit every time they spoke to anyone outside their inner circle. My people might take offence, but they weren't the intended audience. Lobo's narrative would be the ideal to which his Pack would follow whenever they had interactions with the larger community. While I was certain most wouldn't be infected with the same zeal as he, a rift had developed which he would no doubt exacerbate.

Had I been playing from a position of strength a speech of my own would be called for. The proper strategy wouldn't be to counter any specific points but to highlight unity. After all, our cultures were not altogether alien from one another and we stood in common against the dictator. At the moment, I made a snap decision not to reach for the mimeographed copy of his citizenship papers which were left sitting in my vest pocket though it would have been a decent enough time to segue.

"I entrust you have the situation is well at hand," I asked, turning to my aide.

Geoffrey yawned, stretching his arms over his head. It seemed he too hadn't slept a wink. I had never seen him look so tired. One minute he seemed strong and sensible and the next he looked exhausted. His eyes were red, blinking constantly. It seemed he was worn out just from breathing.

"I can handle it, Sally. Anyway, I think what you did yesterday took courage"

"Did it?" I asked. "Courage or stupidity? Or stubbornness?"

Suddenly he sagged. "I don't know and I'm sick of trying to find answers. You decide."

Only then was I struck with a supposition of dubious veracity. Geoffrey didn't have some epiphany I didn't. He believed Sir Charles too. He was holding on out of a sense of duty because he believed that going down fighting at the near-certain odds of defeat was better than settling for a very small success. This sort of thinking is why casinos used to make so much money in the old days.

He hadn't been alone in his thinking. Sir Charles's plan reminded me of our past. When the Acorn Kingdom's own industrial revolution was progressing forward by leaps and bounds we didn't know we were losing the environment till it almost became too late. The first thing you do when you're trying to protect the environment is to try and halt the degradation: But there's a point when it stops working, the only way to preserve species is to take as many of them as you can somewhere safe. Perhaps our home really was doomed. It was a bitter pill to swallow. But saving a few would be better than none.

I chocked, trying to take a deep breath. "And what am I supposed to do about Bunnie?!"

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

I threw up my hands in total exasperation "How can I even think about something that unimportant. Don't I have bigger things to worry about? The fate of Mobius resting on our shoulders?"

"Different things bother different people," he explained patiently. "I too understand being saddled with the burden of mutually exclusive goals. Besides, you're Princess -"

"NO! I'm not some monolithic entity rising over the common rabble. I'm scared, okay?! I'm scared of what almost happened to me in Robotropolis. I'm scared just knowing that place exists and the more exits I see for our predicament, the more scared I get."

For a long time, neither of us said anything as we stood amid a patch of tall golden corn stalks. The air was warm, but every so often, a faint breeze, cooled by the moisture of the forest floor, prickled skin. "You know how much sleep I got?" Geoffrey asked rhetorically. "An hour, I'm jumpy, scared and stressed. I'm starting to believe Bunnie's rat analogy holds water. I think I'll want to change my vote "

"I refuse to believe that we've reached that point. That we should just give up." I insisted.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean we should assume others hold the same sentiments we do. I have doubts whether it's the right thing to do; keeping this affair entirely to ourselves. Besides, the truth will out itself whether we want it to and-"

"I'll manage it" I finished. "Surely you're aware bringing the truth to light at the wrong time can be disastrous. Rest assured it'll revealed it in time. All I ask for is a day to enlist Snively's help on getting a de-roboticizer going and to assemble a plan ... the skeletal framework of a plan" I stipulated. "We'll convene again in the evening to hash out the details, as promised."

"I will reserve my judgement till then. But the odds are definitely against you. Nonetheless, I wish you best of luck in your endeavours. In the meantime, I can only hope the others have the discipline to keep this to themselves..."

* * *

On a small knoll crowned with the Great Forest's ubiquitous tree cover. The venerable Tree Fort sat, keeping watch over the rocky pass. Up I came over the long winding path; past 'Sally's trainees' who stood guard over the narrow passes. All were on high alert for any potential interlopers and they stepped aside respectfully at my presence without fanfare.

Down, I descended into a musty storeroom. Light, warm and inviting spilt through the bars of latticed windows; washing over the wooden floor. Illuminating an otherwise dimly-lit cell in the far corner. Of course, it wasn't actually a cell. Merely an unused storeroom. But it was the best that could be mustered under the circumstances.

There seemed little point quibbling over where the second-most dangerous person in Mobius should be kept. Though Snively's mind was the near equal of his infamous uncle, he lacked in the physical department. Besides, for all the gloomy interior, damp floor, moss-covered walls and cobwebbed ceiling, there was one crucial quality that Snively's new accommodation afforded. Namely, it was the one place that the near-omnipresence of his infamous Uncle would not be able to reach.

"Hamlin Pig" I nodded to the porcine warden standing guard over the 'cell'.

He snapped to attention, handing me a thick bound book. "For our records, I'll need your signature," Hamlin said imperiously. I frowned, he was a stickler for rules. But I signed without protest.

"How's Snively been?" I asked.

"He hasn't tried escaping if that's what you're asking. To be honest, we're more here for his safety than stopping escape attempts. You know, It was pandemonium outside; folk crying out for vengeance."

"But he wasn't harmed at all throughout the commotion."

Hamlin puffs out his chest in pride "No Ma'am, I would've given my life ensuring no one would breach his cell without your say so"

"Thank you, you've certainly done a good job of handling the Pack as well. " Hamlin beamed with pride, before deciding to broach the unspoken question on everyone's mind.

"Forgive my piqued curiosity, but may I know what the little monster's execution method will be? I've been a little out of the loop. But I've heard that a gibbet would be set-up for a public hanging in the village square," Hamlin asked excitedly, almost as though he fantasized wringing Snively's neck himself. It would seem my people's mind was already made-up, revenge. It would seem like rational and reasonable thinking save an important fallacy. Snively was in a very real sense our one trump card against a violent and rash reaction by the dictator.

"We can't have a summary execution without trial," I replied

"A trial?" Hamlin staggered back nonplussed. "We both know we can afford none of these sentiments. The guilty verdict is clear. His sentencing is a matter of mere formality."

Of course, had I so desired I could easily have given legitimacy to a Kangaroo trial followed shortly thereafter by wringing Snively's neck in the gallows. But someone had to play devil's advocate. "Have you forgotten your defence at Antoine's trial? Surely, you value the sanctity of law which states that the accused are innocent until otherwise proven with sound evidence"

I knew we had had mounds of evidence for conspiracy and treason against the crown. No doubt had the due process run its course it would have taken years to expose every last heinous crime. Years which Knothole didn't have at the rate Robotnik was progressing. Hamlin's smug expression seem to falter before morphing into a frown.

"It's alright Hamlin. Now if you don't mind I'd like to be alone with the prisoner please."

"I'll watch out if I were you. He's one slippery character," he added, bowing respectfully before stepping outside, leaving me alone. Alone with Snively.

* * *

There are days in our lives that we all long for: days when we finally get opportunities we've waited for years and when dreams sometimes decades in the making finally come true. It's a feeling of utter peace and tranquillity, one that I've rarely felt nowadays.

NICOLE and Sir Charles were able to dredge much information from Robotnik's own archives but there was so much left unexplored. Certainly, it was useful tactically to know whether the contents of a particular Hover Swat contained either prisoners bound for the roboticizer or worthless ores awaiting refinement. But there remained plenty of unwritten strategic information. In particular, those involving the Dictator's inner workings. All of which Snively's willing co-operation would be able to provide and then some. It would be a long shot. But I would be a fool not to give it a try...

The storeroom's sole occupant sat in the exact center. He was as skinny as a rake; skin yellowed and leathery from jaundice. Like his infamous Uncle, he was mostly bald save a few stray strands which sprouted forth like a collection of unruly weeds. Inwardly I told myself he could feign innocence with ease, his soul was utterly corrupted and his thoughts harboured nothing but a deep-seated desire for all beautiful things to die.

His scrawny stick-like arms were extended and bent out to the side as though manacled though nothing of that sort held him in place. But it was plain to see he did not possess the inclination to escape. His bone-thin shoulders were visibly slumped and his scraggy fingers dragged on the floor. As I studied his features I noted that in spite of the look of shock; his expression remained hard, flat and rigid, giving no quarter in displaying the inner workings of his heart and soul.

Then he looked up. At once, every detail of his eyes came into focus. It was complex and conflicted. Despair, confusion, denial, anguish, self-loathing, hatred and above all a complete and utter helplessness. It was as if a pale of defeatism had descended over him. But as his eyes locked onto me, his expression rather than morphing into fury and a deep-seated desire for revenge as I anticipated was replaced instead with cold apathy.

"Well," he growled. "Have you come to gloat at my misfortune? My fall from grace? What do you want; to laugh; to extract your pound of flesh? Get in line."

"No Snively," I corrected. "If there's anything I've learnt over my short life is that it's never too late to change. That's why I'm here. To help you."

Snively seemed to choke from disbelief before he composed himself "You've done enough" he spat before staring at the floor once more. "I'm nothing now you see. All my plans have been rendered moot by your insipid meddling." It was hard to tell to what extent Snively's words were the result of inner self-loathing, frustration and what was due to feelings of worthlessness he felt.

Standing up straight and with as much authority in my voice as I could muster "It's no trick," I stated. "You may not exactly be trustworthy now," I cautioned. "But you'll find a place in our community. A place where you can atone for the damages you've caused. The others ... while they're not exactly pleased with this arrangement will do as I say. I'm the leader here, and they follow my judgements."

Like a dark suffocating blanket ripped away to let in the light of day an ugly look crossed his face; replacing his apathy. He flexed his stiff digits spasmodically. No doubt having gone numb from prolonged inactivity. Slowly, he sighed, seeming to deflate like a balloon as his shoulders sank into his chest. "Spare me your platitudes and false promises. Where did you inherit that attitude from? If these kernels of hope are all you have to offer me then I don't see what's so attractive about your offer versus rotting in prison" Snively spat, before an unconvincing veneer of sympathy entered his voice: "My deepest sympathies for the doddering fool, your naïve father."

That stung more than I thought it should. Maintaining a stoic, unchanging expression, I shook my head. "I don't expect things to go smoothly or easily but so long as you agree to certain guidelines and I'm sure you're aware of which ones. I believe we can come to a suitable arrangement."

 _Not shanking us while we sleep is a good first step._

Snively remained silent. Taking this to be a sign of receptiveness, I continued. "Not many others will get the opportunity you do," I warned. "Those who have collaborated with Robotnik will spend the rest of their lives in an oubliette, never to see natural light. Never to know freedom again for the rest of their days" I paused.

Outwardly, his expression remained unchanged but I heard his heart race. "You may be angry now. But prison will destroy anyone and everything in its retaliation. It may not happen right away. But soon, instead of the rage and anger, you feel now, there'll be numbness. Like a part of your soul is ripped away, leaving a great emptiness that can never be filled. It's like you'll never feel happiness ever again. There, dreams go to die."

Snively's head jerked-up locking his unnaturally cold eyeballs with mine "As far as I'm concerned you can walk out. Get out of my life and never come back. I'm nothing. You've taken away everything from me. So why don't you just end my pointless existence," he spat, his lip curling into its typical sneer.

"That's where you're wrong, Snively. You can still do great things. Assist me in my endeavours and I will be ingratiated for your actions."

The suggestion seemed to have planted its seeds. Since Snively could not disguise the bemused expression on his face. Although just what sort of tree would grow from this and its harvest would remain a mystery. "Quit speaking in riddles, princess. What do you mean?"

"I require a council, courtiers to administer the realm. I can't do it on my own. Assist me and you'll find a place among them" I hated dangling the proposition before him since it reeked of an agreement founded on the basis of duress with the unhealthy patina of mistrust on its surface. But there was no other choice whatsoever. Not if I wanted a chance at the veritable treasure trove of knowledge.

"A girl after my Uncle's heart," he grimaced, then tilted his head. "You sound a lot like Robotnik a lifetime ago".

I knew what he meant. What he feared. In spite of his apathy, he must have heard the jeers, and bays for his blood. I knew all too often, Snively caught the bulk of his Uncle's abuse for the damage wrought by Freedom Fighter raids. In time, broken bones could be set but shattered minds like his were a different matter entirely. Perhaps for a psyche, as grievously scarred as his., there could be no healing.

"Any position?" Snively pondered whilst coiling a strand of hair around his rail-thin finger. "Just so long as it's not the Minister of War," he surmised with an inoffensive smile

 _I have him! Mockery was a good sign._

I grinned impishly "Yes, anything but that. Within reason, of course. There're still great things you can do."

Snively tried to look scornful but somehow failed "I'll think about it. But I'll promise nothing."

Moving back to the door, I considered it safe for the first time to turn my back on him. "You may not believe this right now. But I'm glad that you'll consider my proposal. I'll get you your meal."

Behind me, I heard Snively shift followed by an audible popping of joints as he stretched. As far as I knew, that might have been his first movements since his incarceration.

"Just so long as it's that gruel you made."

* * *

"It's corn," I maintained as I peeled back the husk, revealing golden kernels glittering inside. Next, I removed a pin from my pocket and punctured one, causing white corn milk to ooze out before slipping the whole ear through the bars to the famished prisoner and munching on my own

"This isn't corn," Snively noted between chews. His face scrunched together, but it was clear he did not find the taste unwelcome. "It's sweet, like sugar almost." He commented as he devoured his meal. "It's really good, but it's not corn."

"It's regular sweet corn, it's just fresh," I elaborated as I slipped another ear of corn through the bars "Fresh corn is actually really sweet when first picked but it dries out after a day or so. Then it becomes like the corn we used to buy in stores."

"So, all this time, what I actually had was stale corn?" Snively asked, perplexed.

"It's not stale, it's just after you pick it, the sugar inside starts turning into starch, so it gets less sweet," I explained, pricking another ear of corn before passing it through the bars. "That's why you usually boil it before eating it, but since this corn is so fresh, you don't even need to cook it."

"Well, I don't like it," Snively complained, picking kernel bits from between his yellow-stained teeth.

"That's alright, some of the older folk like leaving theirs out to dry. We also use those to make popcorn on special occasions" he perked up at the mention of that. I returned my attention to my meal as Snively finished his. He wiped his mouth with an olive-green sleeve, taking to his feet and leaning on the bars of his cell. My ears perked up, swivelling at the disturbance. I knew I was probably being paranoid as even in her bruised, battered and exhausted state Sally was more than a physical match for Snively.

"Thanks for the meal" he grinned, bearing some of that old wickedness. "Let's talk some more. You know, we never formally met, not even during your formal debutante. So, let's start afresh then. I'm Colin Kintobar. I used to run Robotropolis with my uncle fraught with his constant abuse."

I frowned and refused to answer him. Most probably, he wanted to point out all our similarities and highlight how we weren't so different. I wasn't falling for that. We were dedicated to our respective causes; as different as night and day. I admire that. Even though exploring the parallels made my insides churn in discomfort. "We're not friends" I stated matter-of-factly.

"But we're not enemies either, unless you want us to be" he smirked.

"So, where does this leave us?"

"Neutrals I imagine, it leaves us neutrals" Snively scratched his chin "I can't imagine why you'd be so reluctant getting to know me considering you're offering me to work for you. You were Sir Charles' pupil, weren't you? I can't imagine your slack-jawed country bumpkin friends making for deep stimulating conversion, the hedgehog for instance."

"He has depth."

"The depth of a puddle maybe," the horrid man threw his head back and guffawed.

"Last night I met someone who was strong, smart and brave -"

He chuckled. "Well, I'll—"

"But nobody knew it. They all thought he was foolish, or at least most of them did. I faulted him for it. And I still do not believe myself entirely wrong having done so." I finished my meal and took to my feet. "I've other people I need to spend time with. I expect you'll need time to ponder over my offer and I shall return later to see if you've changed your mind."

"Then why are you still here?" he asked, spreading his arms over his cell. "Why are you here, Sally? Do you like wallowing in your misery too?"

I opened my mouth to pontificate on some excuse before closing it. "Maybe," I said, in a near whisper.

He folded his arms across his skinny chest "Do you think, after the war is over you'll become a namby-pamby princess? Just like that? "he snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Do you think the last decade will just vanish into nothingness?"

"I would never let it hurt anyone I care about."

His eyes twinkled. "It'll hurt someone. It always does." He was more intelligent than me (something I admired). But his logic was twisted and selfish.

"Not the way you hurt people," I finally answered. "What I do is for them."

"The very same you're avoiding now?" he asked, strumming his fingers against the iron bars. My incendiary hate for him rose. He smirked and ran his tongue lecherously across his unnaturally pale lips before puckering them up "Clearly, we're at an impasse" he noted, sending a chill went down my spine as his cold eyes washed over my features.

I folded my arms across my bosom. "What do you want?"

"A caveat you may say to verify the sincerity of your offer. A proviso, a stipulation. You understand. There's something I've always desired from you, a kiss."

"No" I protested.

"Princess, in my day and age my salary amounted to six figures of cold hard cash. Not the cowry shells, bottle caps or whatever form of currency your primitive post-apocalyptic society uses. I offer you my consideration for a steal; a kiss. The very same you give the hedgehog, willingly. But as you're well aware, free doesn't last. So what'll it be?

I knew I could refuse. My eyes could harden into daggers, and stab just as grievously. I had silenced him, and others, with just a glance before. He knew this. That's why it came to his complete surprise when I inclined my head at him, opened my mouth and gave him permission. He reached through the bars to the soft thick hair at the back of my neck, sliding it up. His wide eyes expressed bewilderment at his unexpected stroke of good fortune. I didn't think I was breathing, even as his other hand cupped my cheek. He leaned in close, pressing his lips to mine. Maybe, I could close my eyes and pretend. No, Sonic lacked that neediness, that desperation.

Finally, after a minute, he parted his lips smiling smugly. His cheeks flushed a vibrant pink. It was unsettling to see him with colour in his skin. It made him seem warm-blooded...alive. He was easier to hate when he was pale and apathetic like a corpse. But, the satisfaction faded to be replaced with bewilderment. His mouth twitched almost as if to ask: Why did you give in? It was something a fiendish villain like him could never grasp.

"Have you returned to torment me?" I mumbled.

"What was that my princess?" he said in a gentle mocking tone.

"Did I pass your test?" I asked, flat and devoid of any emotion.

"No," he smirked, becoming at once the pompous, baleful creature I despised. "I was just insulting you."

I felt tempestuous, self-righteous contempt flaring up as he leered at me through the bars. He was goading me, daring me to retaliate. Well, it was working. It would be so easy to do it now. I could always say he tried to escape and leaving him with a few extra bruises might even prove cathartic. My fists itched with desire to cave his unrepentant skull in. I turned to leave, lest I do something I regret.

"Your brother, Prince Elias. He's alive." Snively said at last. "As you can see I'm a man of my word."

Without turning my back, I said "You'll ask Hamlin for pen and paper. Write down everything you think is relevant to the Freedom Fighter cause. If you lie, I'll know."


	17. If Sonic Could Do It

**If Sonic Could Do It**

I had half expected Lobo to chaperone Lyco from the clinic where she had been treated for her stun-baton related burns, but it seemed he was more interested in discussing with some of the builders. By the time I returned home with Lyco in tow, she had loosened enough to make idle conversation but had tensed back up upon hearing the rustling of paper.

"Is this a test?" Lyco asked nervously.

"Just an interview," I replied, "I'd like to know more about your society and culture," I explained with a note of professionalism.

"Oh, ok."

"Did you go to school?" I asked.

"Yes, I apprenticed under an elder," Lyco answered, watching warily as I made a note.

I looked back up from my notepad and asked another question, "Until what age?"

"Sixteen," she replied.

The interview continued in that vein for some time, until Lyco was actually holding a conversation rather than answering questions by rote. She described a life on the move: scavenging by night and finding shelter by day. She was astounded by Knothole's living standards. Although she expressed the opinion that we were entirely too reliant upon the surfeit of technology on display.

"Could Lobo find a suitable replacement?" I asked.

Lyco shook her head. "No one," she replied as sunk into her chair slightly. "Lobo has been our leader since the crisis began and is really the only one holding everything together." She answered hesitatingly. "He's not a nice person, but he says it's okay if we say that because he knows it's true."

I moved on to other topics even though there were more depths I wanted to plumb. Lobo having no successor made him eminently important to his displaced people, but it also presented a single point of failure. Lyco wasn't able to shed more light on the topic since she didn't know all that much about the pack's internal politics. That meant turning to his supposed purpose of this interview, which was to smooth cultural differences.

"Lobo intimated that I would treat the Pack badly. Why would he think that?" I asked apprehensively, though I hid that as best I could.

Lyco sat up straight and replied, "It's caution," she reasoned.

"Why? I understand if you're suspicious, but thus far we've thrown open our doors and opened our metaphorical purse strings and gotten nothing save for a chilly reception." I asked.

"I didn't mean anything by it." She replied nervously. "The elders, they have so much wisdom, that they must be right, aren't they? I mean I guess it's okay to experiment when things are safer. If you get hurt it's not so bad, but now that just doesn't work."

"Hmm, I must say, you've been a splendid conversation partner," I said as I put away my notes. "I can assure you that so long as I'm in charge you'll be treated the same as any other Freedom Fighter," I assured her.

"I just want to know one thing," Lyco asked.

"Yes?"

"Is this the end?" She asked with a waver in her voice.

I paused for a moment before answering, "Uh, no. I mean, I've gotten the basics down, but I still want to know about —"

"I mean, is this the end of… of the world?" Lyco's voice squeaked. She turned her head to face me and her eyes were very wide and moist.

I lowered the pen and cautiously rested my hands on my hips. "What are you're talking about?" I asked.

The wolf winced. "Well, it's just, I mean, the elders say that in the time of King Acorn we lived in paradise." She replied.

"Uh huh, that's one way of putting it but—" I began to remark.

"But King Acorn disappeared and a usurper took over forcing everyone to flee," Lyco said.

"Uh huh," I replied; I was beginning to get a bit annoyed at being told something I already knew.

"And a lot of people say that, someday, at the end of the world, an acorn will return to lead all the good Mobians back to Paradise." She stated.

The pen slipped out of my hand.

Lyco squeezed her eyes shut, but tears seeped from between her eyelids. She threw herself on the ground and wrapped her arms around my legs as if I were some kind of messiah, and cried, "I'm sorry if I've been bad! Please don't send me to Tartarus!" Lyco pleaded through her tears.

After blinking several times in bewilderment, I tried to step backwards, but Lyco's forearms were still around my ankles, so I tumbled to the floor. Lyco, apparently realizing she'd tripped the prophesied chosen one, put her hand to her mouth and, with an expression of terror on her face, released a strangled, high-pitched squeal.

Crawling backwards, I regained my feet and stepped outside of my home. I placed my hands on a wall, pounded my forehead against its rough surface. "I can't do it, Rosie," I murmured. "I thought maybe I could handle being their tribal folk hero, but I definitely can't handle this."

I heard footsteps tread behind me and back spun around. "Look, Lyco—"

"Heh, you're back," Sonic said and it took nearly all my self-control not to shriek with shock as he watched with a hesitant, apologetic smile. I was equal parts thrilled, relieved and angry. I wanted to embrace him, pull him close, and yet at the same time push him away, but being so confused myself, I could think of only one thing to say.

"It's you"

He moved to intercept, placing a gloved hand upon my shoulder, "Sal, stay. Let me take Pinkie back and-"

"Lyco." I corrected.

"Righto, just let me send her skedaddling along to her folks." he entreated, gripping me lightly, sending bolts of exhilaration arching through my spine.

"No," I said instantaneously. "Let me return Lyco to her people. Stay here. Don't leave again." I said in the most aggravated tone I could muster, but the speedster only smiled.

"What's wrong?" Lupe asked. "Lyco is out here crying."

"Lupe-" upon realizing that my voice sounded too shrill I paused and gathered myself, and then asked in a harsh whisper, "What exactly do you think of me?"

Lupe sighed and replied. "Oh, dear. Well—I'm sorry about this—the stories say that, under the benevolent reign of King Acorn, we lived in Paradise." She raised a hand to her breast. "Personally, I took the tales as being metaphorical. You know, just letting the younger members of the Pack know there was a time before Robotnik-" She began to elaborate.

"And what's this about me taking Mobians back there?" I asked.

Lupe laughed. "Back there? Oh, no, no. That's not it at all. The legend says that, at the end of the world, an Acorn will return to slay the usurper. Then a new Paradise will descend from the sky." The clinic was silent for almost half a minute as I stared. Lupe coughed gently and added, "I, uh, assume that's metaphorical, too." She mentioned.

"Look, I don't know if you realise this, but I definitely can't bring some city or building or whatever down out of heaven," I said.

"Well, yes. There's that, and I don't think we need to let present events get in the way of a good theory."

"I can't do this. I absolutely cannot be your . . ." I trailed off and threw up my hands up.

Lupe waved a dismissive hand in the air. "These are obviously old wives tales. Clearly, you're not quite the powerful being the stories make you out to be." She commented.

Running my tongue across my teeth to decide whether that was an insult or not, I realized my mouth was very dry. "The problem is that you've got it all wrong. I'm not some big hero, and if Robotnik really does find us, we're screwed." I explained.

Lupe nodded. "I just thought of the same thing, actually…"

* * *

I lollygagged on the way back. Yes, I may have felt conflicted, violated, angry and betrayed, yet I was equally relieved to have him back, but I had to demonstrate my displeasure because while Sonic may have been my mate, he, like everyone else, was also my child. As expected, when I returned home he was gone. I cursed myself for leaving him alone, but looking closely into the nook of my tree I found a stack of three or four TV Guides wrapped in twine. The years had not been kind to them, they had pages missing and were probably held together by some combination of spit, glue and prayer.

"Bunnie always said ya liked books and were complained how ya had ta read the ones ya had all over again. Even the ones you didn't like" Sonic said, popping into my eye-line again.

"I…I suppose that's sweet, thank you," I remarked.

Sonic pressed his hand against my bosom where my ram induced injuries still throbbed painfully. He lifted up the hair at the side of my head which was still sore and tender on the side of the head. "Man, Ari didn't numbuh on you didn't he," he said with a loud huff. "It's war now. Things are different, and I've accepted that you … kill people." His voice cracked ever so slightly with that last note.

I took a step forward, and he skittered backwards. My eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you're okay with all of this?" I asked.

Sonic opened his mouth but shut it again. He scowled and rubbed his chin. "I told ya: I understand. Maybe you can't accept it, but you're still our Sal." He replied. His face took on a pained expression, as though he feared how I would react. "Sal is a killer. I can accept that. We all did." He said in a reassuring tone.

Sensing my visible discordance, he pulled out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, some of which I knew grew nowhere near our home. He leaned in, tangling them artlessly through my hair. Most tumbled down my shoulders and onto the ground, but one managed to stay interwoven within strands of hair. He kissed and at once, those familiar uncomfortable flutters returned in strength. Eventually, I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away gently. He lifted my face so his eyes were parallel to mine "Do you like em, my very special chipmunk gal?" He asked in a gentle voice.

"Yes, Sonic. I like them." I smiled as I replied.

"But these aren't your only gifts. There's more" he said.

"It's all right, you don't need to—"

"It's for you c'mon," he gingerly squeezed my shoulder, "I'll show you."

"Just where is it?" I protested.

"Hop on!" he offered, spreading his arms wide. I was getting angrier, the best gift he could give me would be to tell me what had made him so upset. He was being evasive, buttering me up the same way a dog would with chewed up newspapers, but what could I do? He had me wrapped around his finger.

He ran along tirelessly with me in tow. He pinned, kissed me and nuzzled me. I knew we were getting farther and farther away from my people, but paradoxically, the further we travelled, the less it felt apprehensive and more relieving. All was right in the world, and he still loved me. Eventually, he came to a stop by the 'Ring Pool' and pushed back a set of tall grass to reveal a small figurine.

"My doll?" I remarked in surprise. There it was, restored in almost pristine condition. The wood was so smooth and polished it that almost glowed in the fading sunlight; every joint and limb properly pegged and screwed in place. A faint flocking of hazelnut fibres now covered the figure in a soft fuzz that resembled genuine fur. Bright, gaily shining paint had been applied to make the doll's eyes and lips look startlingly real. The dress now blazed every bit as white as the full moon, silver and gold thread weaved in its fabric like meandering streams, looking as misty and gleaming as moonlight woven into gossamer. It was truly a work of art.

"Oh…sweet bilberries, how did you…?"

He kept silent as he handed the doll over carefully, lightly clasping my digits around the restored relic and gazing at me meaningfully. He explained how he'd taken the toy to Amy without explaining who it was for and asked her to repair the wooden figure. He elaborated on how he searched for just the right material to approximate the feel and colour of my fur. I took the doll and clutched it close to my chest, and his olive-green eyes looked genuinely surprised as I started tearing up from gratitude and joy.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

I almost moaned when I replied, "Yes."

I almost submitted to the rampaging desire, the longing unfulfilled, but then I recognized an opportunity, and I made a hasty, messy plan. "I want to face you, Sonic," I said, breath caught in my chest from anticipation. "Sit," he obeyed and I shimmied onto him, realizing how much I missed him, how badly I needed him. I pulled myself as close to him as I could, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, resting my cheek against his.

Then I attacked. "Why did you leave?" I pushed myself back, still too close to him to be entirely lucid, but far enough away to make my point. "No more of this until you tell me what happened. You left me, you hurt me, and yes, I was mad but more than any other perfect gift you have for me. I want you to tell me what's bothering you." He broke eye contact. He was pinned, literally and figuratively. It had taken hundreds of miles to entrap him, but he couldn't avoid me now. "Tell me, Sonic," I demanded.

"It's about Uncle Chuck" he began. "You know how he's in Robotropolis, living under fatso's nose, and that he said Robotnik's going through the city tearing the place apart looking for something … but whatever it is, it's beyond his ability to crack." He replied.

Oh no. I should have foreseen this.

My hand went up and lightly clasped around my throat. The frantic hedgehog stamped his feet "It's dangerous for him, but he insists in trying to figure out Lardnik's angle, and ya know how stubborn he gets. We've gotta get him out before Robuttnik finds him and ya know Rotor will need all the help he can get on the deroboticizer thingy. Sides, how's Robuttnik supposed ta know he's got one bot less in his crummy city anyhow?" Sonic explained.

"If we went ahead now," I cautioned, feeling my heart leap into my chest "If we pulled out all the stops and extricated your Uncle we'll put lives at risk. Robotnik will get an inkling on the source of his leaks-"

"We won't risk anyone's lives," Sonic claimed. "We've got that Roboticizer, Sal, use it on me after we get rid of the whole robo slave thingy. Then, I'll trout that ole egghead." Noting my shocked expression, he lightly clasped my hands and looked me straight in the eye. "If it works, then we can save everyone."

"No," I said firmly.

"Why?" he asked simply.

I nodded and tried to judge how hard it would be to talk Sonic out of it. Yes, there was not a trace of hostility or ulterior motive. So, I opted for honesty and an emotional appeal. "He'll be suspicious of any robot now, including Robians" I started listing the reasons one-by-one, feeling my stomach churn with each additional finger. "Do you accept the risks poised, that you might not make it back?" I asked.

"Every day," he said confidently.

"Do you accept the risk that the roboticization might be irreversible?" I asked.

"I think if Uncle Chuck could, I could," he replied with a hint of hesitation.

"Your friends and I will be understanding of your decision, but once you do this, nothing will ever be the same. Like it or not, you might become a pariah to the community, the first Mobian to willingly step into a Roboticizer, and even if we turn you back you won't be capable of having a normal life."

"Sal, when exactly have any of us been normal? All I'm asking for is the chance to try," he offered.

"We only get one shot at this. The slightest slip-up in our repurposing and Robotnik will get what he has always craved, a chaos wielding adept utterly enslaved to his will and -" I began to say.

"If that happens, you can stop me," he said solemnly. "I know you can. I trust you."

I gritted my teeth together "I thank you very much for your commitment, but if we messed up, then Robotnik will suspect we've subverted a Robian's programming to spy on him. He'll leave nothing to chance. You know what he'll do to the other helpless Robians we won't be able to rescue. I can't give you my blessing on this," I stated.

"Please, Sal. I don't understand," he protested.

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

Sonic nodded determinate. "Yes, Sal I trust you"

"Then, trust me to do everything I can to save your Uncle."

Sonic was quiet for a while, "I think" he began. "I don't really know you, all of you like I only know maybe your hair, or that little tuft of your tail, or-"

"You know my heart, Sonic. That's all that matters." I whispered. As I observed his downcast expression, a flare of grief and exhaustion washed over me and I knew just what to do "I don't want you to be sad, Sonic. If it makes you happy, go be with another. Whatever imagined obligation you think you owe me? Well, it doesn't exist anymore. Go," I urged. "Be with someone who you're not separated from by a canyon of intellectual difference - if that's what you want."

I was afraid to make eye contact, afraid to see consent when I offered his heart's desire, but when I did look at him, he looked troubled. "I've noticed things, things that really upset me," he said.

"Like what?" I demanded.

"You don't wanna trust anyone," he said. "I wanna be an outlet and, well, I mucked up that first time around, but now, you're acting like you want to be all alone."

"Do you think sympathetic nodding and compassion is going to make me open up?" I said, in a resigned tone. "You're right, I'm all alone. My people are short-sighted and foolish. I've no one to identify with. Please stop pretending you can relate to me," I said.

"Yeah, you're right. I haveta pretend. Because ya don't wanna give me enough ta work with." Sonic remarked.

"So, do you think being my confidant, that's what I need?" I asked.

"I think it'll help." He replied simply.

I sat back down hard, but I didn't demand that he leave and I didn't revoke his permission to touch my possessions. Nonetheless, I ripped my hand from him and turned to sob to myself. "I was not anomalous," I said through my tears. "It's a lie. It was all impossible without it. It did it all. I'm a pawn, just like Dad, just like so many."

He let me sob for a while till he found the courage to ask "Whatcha 'it'?"

"The 'Source of All'" I said, turning up towards him. "It's all it. The newer rescuees. They ask me why we never went back to save anyone else back then when we were kids? I told them it was impossible. The coup was a masterstroke and it was only through providence that we got away at all. I've posited and come to believe we only made it through the help of a higher power. An omniscient entity who deigns to intrude upon our pathetic existence as it pleases." Sonic rubbed my shoulder with his palm. I felt empty, horrible for bringing all these toxic thoughts and conclusions to the surface. "Amy's like me you know," I finally said. "The Source of All changed her. Maybe it changed us all too."

"Why this Source sounds like a pretty big a-hole," he said at last.

My sniffles turned to guffaws and I reeled from the polarity. "It won't help us in its cosmic game. Our success or failure is all incidental, we're just a sacrificial bishop or rook, so it discarded us," I said with a maudlin tone.

"Yeesh, don't go blowin a gasket on me. This is heavy stuff," Sonic sighed. "But I can't believe ya think others do the work ya do, yourself," he mentioned.

"I've done good things," I said. "I've made a difference, but fixing the future is such a huge undertaking. Can you imagine fixing all the damage Robotnik has wrought? I just can't. Not when everything that`s been fixed so far has been due to someone else's intervention," I said; fingering the doll.

"Nuh-uh, Sal. There're so many different ways that that's not true. It'll make your head spin." Sonic reassured me.

"Go ahead, try me." I challenged

"Fine," Sonic said rolling back his imaginary sleeves "Did some crummy indoor pool make you realize Buttnik was up to no good as a kid? Did some puddle ask you to rescue Pocahontas and friends? Did it give you this handsome mug to look at? Is some mumbo-jumbo really responsible for everything you did? If you're gonna keep believing in some kinda philosophical crud moi can't stop you, but I'm not gonna let ya say you're some kinda puppet. You're not alone Sal, never." He rolled toward me and scooped me into his arms before saying. "Now, I know ya gotta big speech planned, but first we'll need at making a little pit stop. Muh little buddy's missing his aunt."

"In just a minute Sonic", I said as I got to my feet and ascended the tall oak, doll tucked neatly into my boot. I returned the doll to its proper place and felt the rough bark scrape my knees as I slid down to the soft foliage below "You'll always be my hero, Sonic the Hedgehog," I whispered, toy train engine in hand.

That night`s bedtime story schedule was "Jack the Giant-Killer," though I wondered if that was too exciting. Indeed, as I read, Tails squirmed before he settled down beneath his warm quilted blanket and blinked his wide eyes. Upon finishing, I sang a lullaby. Sometimes Sally would sing songs her mother once sang. Other times, she made up a new song, as I did so tonight.

" _Hush now, quiet now,_

 _It's time to lay your sleepy head,_

 _Hush now, quiet now,_

 _It's time to go to bed._

 _Drifting off to sleep, leave the exciting day behind you._

 _Drifting off to sleep, Let the joy of dreamland find you._

 _Hush now, quiet now,_

 _It's time to lay your sleepy head,_

 _Hush now, quiet now,_

 _It's time to go to bed_."

As I sang, I turned off the lamps, blew out the candles, set the toy train by Tails' bedside table and pulled the blinds. By the time I finished, it was dark and Tails had slipped into a deep slumber. Yes, this, here and now was everything I wanted, but the moment quickly faded when a loud rap rang out on the door.

Tails sat up and rubbed his eyes with his good hand, "Aunt Sally?"

"Shush. Go back to sleep, Tails." I kissed him square on the forehead and tiptoed out, closing the door behind me as quietly as I could. The sky overhead was a rich purple, already dotted with stars, and an evening breeze wafted across the placid meadow, bringing with it the scent of flowers.

The coyote standing before me nervously tugged at his collar "Eet's time."

* * *

There was some muted discussion whether the meeting would be made open to the public, but it was so late in the day that only the most ardent followers of politics would be interested.

Every so often, a fresh set of sheets were hand-couriered over and Rotor was the person responsible for scanning and interpreting the sheets where NICOLE required clarification, but this occurred progressively less as she gradually adapted to Snively's handwriting. It seemed Sonic and I wasn`t the only ones running late, as Bunnie bore in her arms handwritten manuals for the proper care and upkeep of the small communal gardens along with a list of her potential successors.

"Ah shoot, forgot to mention this, but fer the ladyfinger seeds ya gotta put em out in water. The good ones meant fer planting sink to the bottom. Ah don't know really why. But it's not like mah folks could explain it either because they just bought the seeds from the store like everyone else." Bunnie said to me.

"No need to apologize, Bunnie." I interrupted. "If not for you we would probably be running short on food," I noted as I flipped through her notes. The first hour of our meeting considered the pros and cons of her potential successors, but all discussions stopped when NICOLE finished scanning Snively's notes.

"Now that everyone's here we'll take the revote after going over the details of the plan," I announced to the discussion members.

"I would like tah say somethin first. Mah ma used to luv hummingbirds. She hung a bird feeder filled with sugar water by her window so she could watch em. But one day she had to go on a trip. So, she asked cousin to keep em filled. Well, cousin was a good and proper lady and when she found out the solutions were filled with sugah, she replaced it with the artificial stuff, NutraSweet. The hummingbirds who burnt thousands of calories flapping their wings ate and ate… And starved to death with their bellies full to bursting." Bunnie coughed.

"So, mah point is, yeah cousins an idiot, but also ah had a good long think and ah decided to change mah vote. Before we started all this, ah wanted to jus be a hairdresser, but now we're playing for bigger stakes now and ah can't rightfully give this up." Bunnie said.

"Thank you Bunnie," I whispered under my breath.

Bunnie shot me the 'Don't screw this up' look as she leaned back to recover. 'I won't' I mouthed back.

"Look, we've been over this. You're asking the impossible. The moment Robotnik suspects any threats to his personage he'll just lift-off and vaporize us from an unassailable position." Rotor cautioned.

"I'm well aware of that, but look, Robotnik's at his military apogee. Sir Charles might not have all the details but what we do know is that the Death Egg will be rushed over to Robotropolis at a nominal operational status. It'll be kept berthed to Command Central to facilitate its transition into Robotnik's new mobile command centre." I elaborated.

"He might think our attack is real or a feint, but as Rotor says, regardless of what he suspects, he'll lift off and pick us off at leisure. What he won't suspect is our attack to be covering the fact that we'll already be on board." The others crowded around with piqued curiosities. "Once we overcome the garrison: the Death Egg, Robotnik, his command centre, the keys to his empire. Ours for the taking." I explained.

"That sounds like the kinda thing sugah hog might suggest, so crazy it jus might work." Bunnie gasped.

"The diversionary attack will need to be bigger than what we can muster at the moment. We'll need to reach out to other Freedom Fighting groups." I said.

"We don't do that." Geoffrey protested.

"Wait, whose side are you actually on?" Rotor inquired. "Isn't this what you've been talking about, expanding our numbers?"

"I am not on any ... side, merely pointing out that expansion may not be automatically beneficial. A bigger team will introduce new unknowns and variables. It'll be like handling an entirely new beast, different tactics and stratagems are required." Geoffrey explained.

"If we intend to expand," I began, "picking up any random ad-hoc groups isn't the way to go. As Geoffrey suggests, they'll have different agendas and goals from our own, but whatever we decide we had best do it fast. What's a known quantity is the fact that Robotnik has secluded himself in Command Central and is systemically conducting a remote inspection each of his main manufacturing hubs for any vulnerabilities his nephew's capture may have induced. Sir Charles workplace would be subject to 'loyalty testing' approximately two months from now and barring other development we should work with this."

"Isn't that rather arbitrary, Sally?" Geoffrey asked

"That's my Uncle, stink-breath," Sonic protested.

"Look I'm working with known variables here, alright. I needn't remind you of the consequences if Robotnik figured out who our actual mole within his operations is."

"Just where are these forces going to come from?" Rotor asked.

"My brother is alive. He's regrouped with Colonel Somersby, an old family associate and formed a resistance movement. By Snively's reckoning, they're about two thousand strong with maybe a fifth being fighters. Under the auspices of the truce, we should activate the radio tower in that old ranger station get in contact with them,"

"Stop it!" Geoffrey seethed. "On what basis do you still believe that balderdash? The word of a traitor or that imaginary friend you speak to on Sundays perhaps?"

"Look, I get that you would be suspicious if I had posted that question to him directly, but this piece of intel was volunteered to us and thus far his other data seems to corroborate with our sources." I said. "and if my brother is still alive, there's every chance your parents are too." I cleared my throat before continuing. "Anyway, we should use this opportunity to ease out any teething issues that may arise," I added.

"I don't really see why we're not attacking now," Amy commented. "I mean, if Eggman is tearing his own city apart I say this is prime 'keep-em-on-the-run time," she said materialising as her 'Piko-Piko-Hammer' before resting her chin upon it like a cane.

"Can we focus on Snively for now?" I asked. "Apart from generally not liking or trusting him, can you think of anything we need to be particularly worried about right now with his intel?"

"Now there's an understatement. Ah oughtta say ah can't trust that varmint as far as ah can throw him, but that would be mighty inaccurate since ah could probably manage like forty or fifty feet. Mah point is we need ta take what this fella is sayin with a lunch of salt." Bunnie coughed. "Now, ah can't rightly say ah know Elias all that well. But ah think reachin out to him is worth a shot."

"Look, I am well aware of the risks involved, but if we never took risks we would literally do nothing. Being passive is not a winning strategy. Is it really that much of an extrapolation to say that if some of his other intel checks out he's telling the truth on this occasion?"

"Sally, the best lies are those that are concealed within half-truths. There's a lot of things to consider when you're dealing with someone like him. He could be lying to us out of spite." Rotor cautioned.

"Well sure he's bald and ughlee as sin, but Snively hates his own Uncle at least as much as we do, so the enemy of my enemy is my friend right, right?" Sonic offered.

"I see your point Sonic but he was kinda our enemy too only yesterday. Let's not forget that." Rotor advised.

"Look, we're speculating because we don't have enough information, but we have finite time and resources. We need to commit to a proper plan and we need to do this now." I mentioned to the discussion members.

"I'll probably regret saying it, but I say we do this." Rotor finished.

"Well, Sally Girl looks like you've got your wish," Bunnie said.

"Looks like we've got our work all cut-out for us." I said whilst peering over at a pile of blueprints, mathematical formulae and various attack and infiltration plans."

"Think it'll work?" Bunnie asked hopefully, an element of desperation crossing her tone.

"I don't know Bunnie, what may work in theory may not necessarily function in praxis. Furthermore, axioms can still be fudged, but there's a chance, and if at all possible, we should smuggle some of this out to Sir Charles."

* * *

After the meeting adjourned and I reached home, I found Lupe waiting outside. She had taken a shower and somehow looked older since the dust, dirt and grime had been masking her features.

"I was told to come. Is this where you live?" The wolf asked me.

"Yes, what happened to Lobo," I asked in reply.

"We fought. It's normal. We'll make up in a few days." She dismissed before settling down into her new home. "Are you scared?" she asked finally.

"Every day," I whispered.

"But you've been doing this a long time?" Lupe asked.

"Since I was a child. But I still get scared." I replied.

Lupe nodded, staring the moon. The silver light accentuating the soulful depths of her blue eyes. "Japara's resting in his search, too," she said dreamily. "We should rest and regain our strength."

"Who's Japara?"

Lupe pointed at the moon. "In the time of the Dreaming, Japara was a strong hunter," she said in the singsong tone of a recitation by rote. "He provided for his wife and infant son. One day, while he was out hunting Parukapoli visited his wife. He told her a great tale, his cleverest and funniest yet. She listened and laughed for hours" Lupe smiled dolefully. "Her son, too young to understand the danger had wandered into the river and fell in. By the time Japara's wife heard his cries and pulled her child from the water, he had drowned."

Drawing a deep breath, Lupe continued. "Japara returned home to find his grief-stricken wife cradling his child. She'd been there for hours and had nearly no tears left. He asked what had happened, and she confessed her lapse in attention. Nearly mad with anger and grief, Japara accused her of murder and killed her in a fit of anger. Then, he tracked down Parukapoli and killed him, too. Japara was a fantastic hunter, and neither his wife nor Parukapoli stood a chance."

"He returned to his Pack, bleeding from the wounds Parukapoli inflicted. He told everyone what had transpired. They bandaged and nursed his wounds but were furious. 'You have taken a tragic accident and made it worse,' they scolded. 'Your wife did not mean to kill your child but in your anger, you've tripled this tragedy' Japara knew that they were right and returned to the place where he had left his wife and child. But they were gone, taken by kind spirits to live in a better place, free from his anger. He fell to his knees in great distress, begging for the spirit's forgiveness."

"The spirits heard his sincere pleas and assured him that his family was safe with them in the sky world. They told him that if he truly spoke his heart, then he too could come to the sky world. But as punishment for his rash actions, they would not bring him to them. He would have to search the sky for them and hope that they wanted to be found. They say that the moon is the reflection of Japara's campfire as he explores the sky world. Some say that he's still searching for his lost family. Others say that he reconciled with them and they explore the sky world together."

"That's… what, one of your ancestor's creation myths?" I asked

She shook her head. "That story was told to me by my step-brother... Drago. His story is different. But it fits this situation better. Don't tell Lobo I told you that version and not our version, though."

"Are you not supposed to?" I inquired.

She shrugged. "My husband is protective of the old ways, what little of it is left. He worries I don't remember them properly and takes teaching us very seriously. Generations ago, it wouldn't matter so much. If he didn't teach us, somebody else could, but there are so few of us left these days and once they're lost, they can't come back. We're too weak, I think, to fight Robotnik on top of everything else."

"Hopefully you won't have to," I assured.

"I hope you're right. But we'll prepare anyway to defend our homes." Lupe said.

"Do you have a lot of these 'creation stories'?" I asked hesitantly.

"There are Dreamtime stories for many things. Some are more important, like occasions and holidays. Others are more akin to your anecdotes and jokes. All the same, we try to keep as many as we can," Lupe replied proudly.

Important? I frowned. It was always a tragedy to lose a piece of any culture, but creation myths weren't something I considered important unless Lupe actually believed the moon was a campfire light, which I doubted. It would be rude of me to confirm my suspicions, I figured as Lupe had finished turning my bedraggled hair into a topknot braid to match her own.

"I'm done, our braids have symbolism" Lupe elaborated. "Sometimes it's to honour a favoured ancestor. Sometimes, use it to denote a position and title."

"What's mine?" I asked.

"Yours? You're a sentry. I think it suits you." Normally, Sally would only let Bunnie braid her hair and I thought Lupe's style looked silly, but I decided to keep silent. After all, I was dictating their living arrangements and I couldn't think of some reason why Lupe shouldn't be allowed some turnabout.

"Your turn," she said. "Tell me one of your stories."

...

"Well," said Lupe quietly, "one doesn't learn that from the stories."

"I don't know," I answered. "Does one?"

"One does not. That poor dear," Lupe murmured.

My hands trembled.

"We tell stories where Princess Sally is alongside her magnificent blue spiked knight battle the dictator side-by-side. When I heard those apocryphal tales, I figured you would be sitting on a throne, wearing a golden tiara and wielding either a sceptre or a sword. The version you tell it is-" Lupe regaled.

"Disappointing?" I interjected.

"Unexpected, maybe, you just went ahead, no ceremonies, fanfare or anything," Lupe corrected.

"That's how it happened," I answered. "We had a lot of parties, but not a whole lot of formal ceremonies." I looked up into the lupine's eyes. "Lupe, what I did to Antoine, was it really so bad?"

Lupe looked away and clenched her teeth. "I can empathize with someone desiring to honour their family traditions. Equally, I think I can understand why you did what you did. A little bit, maybe." She said quietly. "Really, though we think of you as a stern warrior queen, always fighting. Princess Sally at a party with cake and balloons isn't the sort of thing I would picture, not in a millennium."

"I've been trying to tell you since we met that I'm not who you think I am," I explained.

"No, you're not. You're someone much more-" Lupe waved a hand, apparently seeking the right word "-gentle. You make hard decisions. Not always the best ones, but you try."

"But what about my bad decisions?" I asked apprehensively.

"Well, as I said, Princess ... Sally. I at least, forgive you." Lupe looked over her shoulder. "But maybe you'll need to let him go so he can build something himself. It's . . . it's like a butterfly. If it doesn't struggle as it leaves its cocoon, its wings won't finish growing and it will never learn to fly,"She remarked as she walked away.

Hearing those words set my heart at peace. I fluttered my eyes and wiped a tear from my cheek. "Maybe... I. Sorry. Forgive me. I forgot."

"What? It's okay. What's wrong?" Lupe asked, turning to face me.

"I… I forget what they did to you. I figured it out now. I am an Acorn." I replied.

"And I'm a part of the Pack," she said. "They sent thugs to steal the kids, hit them for passing on our stories, shamed and ostracised them. Our elders ... they... they remember being cut off from all their choices except the ones they wanted. They remember being made to feel like choosing anything outside of that was a betrayal as if our histories somehow made us ... less" her voice caught when she said this. She turned her head away so that I couldn't see her tears glisten off her cheeks. "Sorry, it's not your burden to bear," the lupine apologized.

I was glad to drop the subject. Debating past atrocities and genocide wasn't something I really wanted to talk about. But then… who could I share my thoughts with? I couldn't have real conversations with Sally's friends.

"I'm going to try to get some rest," She said as reached out and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing up and curling up onto her worn sleeping mat. "Don't watch Japara's fire too long." She said as before at last drifting into slumber.

Against her advice, I watch the moon for a while. I think of Japara who had meant well but took irreconcilable actions and searched for atonement. I had killed and would do so again. I know fretting over petty issues like this was less important than any vague aftermath I hoped to achieve. But somebody had to keep thinking of what came next.

I just wished it didn't always have to be me.


	18. Water Upon A Rock

**Water Upon A Rock**

In the morning after the Freedom Fighter debriefing, Lupe returned to her people and Lobo gathered the Pack to accept me as their own. Kneeling in a small meadow beyond the village, each wolf touched their noses with mine. They snorted in sharp puffs and memorised my scent. For nearly an hour, they breathed onto me.

Lupe had not only taken in my scent but had also offered me one of her homemade necklaces. Lyco jabbering all the while had snuffed me in several places like an over-eager dog. Leeta had not waited in line at all but sniffed me by sneaking up from behind.

It was almost too painful to think of the future they faced. I knew that if help didn't arrive soon there would be no future for The Pack and the rest of the Freedom Fighters. No future for Sonic and I. I find myself thinking about him often. In some ways, we had become even closer, working side by side to defeat Robotnik. But the easy fun, the trust, of our earlier times was gone. I treasured our more carefree times, like when we held a play wedding together. I held on to that memory.

After sniffing my nose, Lobo with his mannequin stiff posture and his steely eyes rubbed my cheek with his muzzle and whispered terrible oaths of allegiance on behalf of the Wolf Pack Nation - the very same he had sworn to King Acorn.

After all, they had been through. All that they would go through as they stuck with me. Would I have the heart to commit them into battle?

* * *

The morning sun rose steadily into the Mobian sky as I plodded down to the dirt path through the village centre. When I reached my destination I paused, placing a hand on my hip and with the other shielded my eyes from the sun. There stood the hut that was once King Acorn's inner sanctum and if all went well our new centre of operations. Sally had gone through the place many years ago in search of valuable supplies but had since locked up the place. Although whether she had done so in anticipation of the monarch's forestalled return or to preserve the place as a sort of museum was lost to memory.

Peering through the cobweb-laced windows, I observed the bare walls, the writing desk and a simple bed all covered in a thick layer of dust and came to wonder if the room had always been so bare. Considering how lavishly the Acorns were once used to living, it came as a complete shock that King Acorn had himself been an aesthetic.

I took a moment to mull over why this disturbed me: it changed my impression of King Maximillian, giving the strong impression that he had lived entirely for his people's sake and reserved little or nothing for himself. That plucked from my heart a faint note of guilt.

"Chilidog for your thoughts, Sal." the voice that broke the contemplative silence was as light as the breeze on which it rode and as I turned around I found the hedgehog leaning on the doorframe with an easy smile spread across his face.

"That's a creative interpretation on an all too common turn of phrase," I remarked wryly.

"So, Howzit hanging?" he asked as he stood beside me, gloved hands hanging on his side.

As I returned his steady gaze with his own, I felt myself being irresistibly drawn toward towards the hedgehog's eyes as though some hidden force of magnetism was at work "Oh, I was just…" I began, my voice trailing off.

"Sal…" Sonic's eyes were serious as he tracked my every movement. "…it's been a long day, ya know? Even a big ol' hero like you needs her beauty sleep"

"But it's the beginning of the day and I don't have time for a nap" I answered, feeling every bit like a hypocrite as I yawned loudly. Pausing, I waited for the hedgehog to make some snide remark that would take the edge off my inner feelings of melancholy, isolation and sadness. But to my surprise, he remained silent even as I let loose a bone-weary chuckle.

"All this sage advice coming from our resident hog who regularly scarfs down his own body weight in junk food and dozes off the aftermath?"

Sonic reacted to this verbal snipe not by pulling a face of comical indignation and launching into some facile argument about how he needed the extra calories for his enhanced metabolism as I had anticipated. This time, the hedgehog's eyes remained grave as they gazed at me, waiting, clearly unwilling to drop the matter until he received an explanation for the bout of melancholy faced by his beloved.

I tried to look away in order to avoid Sonic's eyes but as though hypnotised by those two bright spheres I could not help but be drawn toward his gaze. "I was just thinking …" I began knowing that even before those words had departed from my lips that it was going to sound lame.

 _It should be me that gets roboticized_ , I mumbled.

"Uh, got a bug in my ear-" Sonic said rubbing his earlobes "-try that one more time." My hand reached up lightly to clasp my throat. Sonic had surprised me. He did not try to make light of a situation that he didn't understand, didn't try to change the subject, but rather he endeavoured to figure it out to the best of his understanding. "Tell me, Sal," he demanded

I knew that I must've looked tired and as I heaved a great sigh I felt it too. Like a tidal wave, exhaustion from multiple sleepless nights rushed over me. "Sonic…" I paused, biting my lower lip in a vain attempt to stem back the onslaught of words gushing from the tip of my tongue."…do you think that after this war of ours is over will things will ever go back to normal and that…you and I…".

Silence reigned as Sonic stared breath-taken aback at my behaviour, barely believing that he had just heard before recovering "Well," he said "-a little of the ol' hedgehog encouragement is just what the doctor called for" Standing at my shoulder, Sonic bent down and gave my shoulders a firm squeeze which immediately caused one leg to flop out involuntarily as I winced in pain.

"Why, that's your problem there. You're all seized up."

"Uh, you lost me."

"I always thought you girls would give each other rubdowns."

"Well, Bunnie and I give each other spa treatments, but not as often as I would like, of course, since I can't afford it on my tight schedule. But sometimes we do give each other facials and-"

"But no rubdowns."

"No, I skip out on that part because it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Alright, let Doc Sonic sort you out. Now it'll be best if I could do the full-body works but none of us has the time for that." Sonic moved his hands up to the left side of my neck and, with his fingertips, rubbed in circles just under the poll. "Alright, now I'm going to loosen up your shoulders."

After that, he knelt down and, holding his hands in loose fists, gently punched my left triceps, making the heavy muscles jiggle. "You've been skipping your aerobics, haven't you?" he asked as he bore down as hard as he could onto my back muscles, forcing me to scrunch up my face while I nodded fiercely. "Well, I know that you're a busy person but don't just keep hitting the weights."

"You know, Bunnie had me working hard to strengthen myself. It's really developed my chest, and for a while, I was afraid I was starting to look like a guy."

"With all those extra muscles, you probably are bulkier in the front than you used to be, but I wouldn't worry about it. Bunnie does have all the same muscles, and she doesn't look like a guy, does she?"

"Well, she does a little bit."

"Oh. Well, never mind. Still, I think everyone worries when their body changes: don't tell anyone I said this, but when I was about ten or so and started putting on more chest muscle, I was afraid I was starting to look like a girl."

"Like a girl? But that doesn't make any ... oh, wait, I remember. Yes, I suppose I can understand that."

Sonic continued to push on my pressure points until I felt a release, and I let loose a loud sigh as I felt my ears swung outward, and my eyelids lowered "Anyway," Sonic said, "don't do nothing but strength training. You've gotta stretch. If your muscles get overworked, they can get inflamed."

For a while, neither of us said anything while Sonic applied pressure in all the right spots "Do you think we'll ever be able to beat Robotnik once and for all, Sonic?" I asked

"Of course, we will, Sal!" he loudly exclaimed, looking about as though he'd have thought that such a notion was blatantly obvious. "Is there any doubt? Whatever my gal is cooking up is going to put one big crimper in Robotnik's parade isn't that right?"

Even before he was half of the way through his gushing stream of platitudes, Sonic looked pensive and stopped his message almost as though he could tell that his actions weren't having the desired effect. Squeezing my eyes shut and loudly exhaling I felt something ignite within me. "We just might have a chance now and... I just don't want to get my hopes up in case this all comes crashing down." I blurted feeling myself trembling as I aired out my innermost thoughts to him. But it was no more than a moment, for Sonic closed the short distance that had separated us, reaching out and enveloping me in his arms.

"But some things are certain, Sal," he said, peering deep into my eyes. "Just like this moment-" he said, gesturing about the room "-just like you and me….". Even before he had fully formed the words, I was somehow preternaturally aware of just where this was going.

My eyes fluttered and my knees trembled as I slowly tilted my head back. As I did so, all of the doubt and fear seemed to ebb away as quickly as water being poured from a cup. At once, a certain sense of serenity and leaving my mind clear. and as I reached one hand over my vest I felt my heart thudding away, so loud that I felt my ears throb with each beat.

By my reckoning, a mere three inches separated Sonic's lips from my own which were already tingling with yearning. Yes, there was something just so alluring about him. The way he always had a certain muse about him: to lighten my unbearable burden.

 _I thought you were the fastest thing alive. Two inches…one inch…come on, kiss me sempai…_

"Your Highness … a word in your ear?" an all too familiar nasally voice interrupted and I almost let loose a loud groan of disappointment as reality proved to be a cruel mistress wiping away the magic of the moment I had so nearly partaken in.

Immediately, Sonic disentangled himself from me and I felt the sides of Sonic's spikes brush past as they bristled with chaos energy. "Of course, Snively" I answered as graciously as though I hadn't been interrupted from a tryst. "What is it you have to say to me?"

Snively shifted from one booted foot to the other. If he felt the slightest bit on edge for living among the enemy it would be his just desserts. But if Robotnik's endless torrents of gratuitous physical violence were anything to go by Snively's capture may have been a boon in disguise. He was to the extent possible by the Freedom Fighter's watchful eye able to walk wherever he wanted whenever he wanted without the possibility of punishment for having done so out of turn.

"Today, your pet skunk had me setting up all manner of broadcasting equipment throughout the Great Forrest and I can't but help something is amiss," Snively reported, his voice clipped and his words directly to the point. "Suffice to say, my task has been completed in record time and my new instructions were to report to you."

"Oh," I stammered feeling more than a little self-conscious over my weak response since he had probably expected at least a little recognition for his expectation "Why thank you, Snively."

Snively lowered his arms down to his sides looking to all of Mobius as less of a man and more like a flag-pole with a nose. "Not at all, Your Highness. Are there any other degrading tasks that you would have me perform: a clogged toilet perhaps?"

"Erm sorry, Sniv- I mean Collin-" I froze upon observing the dark grey circles which ringed his icy blue eyes…" at once, guilt and annoyance raised their ugly heads again as I realised that what I was said was starting to sound a lot more like condescending criticism rather than genuine praise for a difficult job well done. "What I really mean to say is that wouldn't you like to take a break after all your hard work."

"Yeah. Why don'cha?"

Snively looked at Sonic, his thin eyebrow raised "Why … why my brave hedgehog knight-" he said mockingly, in a clear attempt to goad the hedgehog on. Whatever Snively's intentions, it was clear his overt mockery was having a noticeable effect on the spiked hero. If the way Sonic's pointed blue ears were pressed flat against his skull in anger didn't cue me in, the simple fact that Sonic sentences tended to grow noticeably shorter and far less animated certainly had.

I reflected upon the cause of the little man's attempts to tempt fate and came to the conclusion that this sort of situation was a regular occurrence for Snively who had spent many years treading on eggshells around his infamous uncle. Now, he must have felt freely able to flaunt his own brand of impudence before the Freedom Fighters in the full knowledge that they would never violate their own rigid code of honour to harm him.

Unless, of course, he gave them a good reason to.

"I am so sorry-" Snively said with a mocking bow "-if my report to 'The Princess' has inflicted undue inconvenience upon either of you. If such is the case then, I offer my deepest apologies," he said smugly placing his clammy left hand upon his chest. "I've judged my report to be of great significance, however, feeling certain that 'Her Highness' would have found news of her imminent broadcasts to be of weightier matter than a private rendezvous."

I hardened my lips into a single straight line and once again violent thoughts invaded my mind when I came to realise that though the words themselves were spoken to Sonic, the sting was directed squarely at me. When I met the unspoken challenge, my voice was as graciously and dignified as befitted a person of Sally's stature especially when dealing with someone who had been as insufferable as he but yet had delivered an invaluable service. "Sonic, Snively is right-" I reasoned. Biting my tongue as I did so "- to have brought these matters directly up to my attention."

For a moment Sonic stared back, stung by the reprimand then he looked again at Snively and, at the sight of that expanding sneer and twitching eyebrow, decided that the war was far from over. "Okay…so ya said your piece-" the hedgehog growled, "-now git."

Snively beamed widely as though propelled by a morbid curiosity as to just how far his once greatest nemesis could be pushed before he would impale the little man. " 'Git', you low-brow cretin? Them's fighting words hedgehog and in front of the princess too? I think not."

Then, in the blink of an eye Sonic seemed to materialise right in front of Snively or at least as close as he could manage without poking his own eye out on the human's nose. "Yeah?" he snarled. "Well guess what, I've just about had enough putting up with you…"

"Enough."

The command was briefly uttered and low in tone yet it had succeeded in forcing the mutual rivals to break eye-contact with each other to look back at me.

Drawing a few deep breathes, I composed myself and spoke in a decorous manner "Sonic, stop this at once and stand down." Having dealt with the hedgehog, I turned toward the main cause of my present ire. "Snively…now that you mention it there is one more thing that you do. We'll need to get a communication console all wired up. Think you can manage?"

* * *

"Anything else, my princess?" Snively asked as he emerged from the back of the newly installed communications console which now set on King Acorn's former writing desk. A sprawl of wires ran from the reactivated ranger station to the console.

"Stay, we'll know whether this will work in a few minutes."

Given the fact that we would be piggy bagging off of one of Robotnik's satellites, it was imperative for NICOLE to bypass any encryptions before Robotnik could trace the source of the broadcast. If all went according to plan we would have precious few minutes' of conversation to get the communications across. All I could hope was that someone on the other end was going to pick up the phone.

"NICOLE, activate communications array," I ordered. "Outgoing message. First address: Acorn 'South Isle' regiment. Priority one, two-way communication demanded."

" **Tapping into Robotnik's communication array…Ready** " NICOLE said.

"Open channels," I commanded.

" **Begin search** …" I chewed on my tongue.

What if they didn't pick up? What if all this was just a trap? No, Snively might have been an utterly reprehensible character but he wasn't suicidal. If he was? Then, I would make sure he died very slowly and very painfully at my hands before it was my turn.

" **Channels open, begin message** ," NICOLE responded interrupting my morbid train of thoughts.

I faced the computer panel and tried to compose myself to make a good impression. "This is Princess Sally Alicia Acorn. I'm-"

" **Communications locked out.** " NICOLE cautioned.

"What? How?" I sputtered.

"Oh, that. Robotnik's Satellite communications are heavily encrypted and the codes cycle through every thirty minutes. Think your little handheld can match?" Snively replied smugly.

Having no desire to waste any more time with Snively I wracked my head for a solution and came up blank. "NICOLE any ideas?"

 **"Calculating possible solutions…solution found. In the time where I was running my additional modules my efficiency had gone up ny approximately two hundred and sixty-four percent. I estimate I'll be able to breach Robotnik's codes within fifteen minutes while running them.** "

"Do it."

Several tense minutes followed while NICOLE worked her magic on the communications array, " **Firewall breached. User access granted.** "

"Computer, resume previous communication."

" **Begin message**."

"This is Princess Sally Alicia Acorn communicating from the Knothole Freedom Fighting Group based in the Great Forrest. We have urgent news for Prince Elias."

The communication officer appearing on screen was a snake wearing a faded Acorn army beret, a native of the hard-won province and the newest addition to the Acorn Kingdom before its untimely demise. "Yeesh, 'your highness' a 'priority one' message is reserved only for the utmost of-"

I was not feeling patient. I'd been punched, kicked, and stomped upon and I had to bring my point across swiftly. "Then maybe this will be important enough for you: We've captured Robotnik's nephew. His second in charge and we have news of an alliance to bring to the prince."

The young warrior nearly fell over. "What?"

"I said," dragging Snively into view. "We have Snively in our possession and we would like to forge an alliance with your prince."

The afternoon and night passed and there was no response. Perhaps Snively had been lying to me the whole time. Maybe, they were having difficulties reaching us, That happens frequently enough. Or maybe Elias thought it was a trap set by Robotnik Or maybe, maybe, maybe. I went through every "maybe" I could think of. Still, no response came. In any case, I did not spend the time being by moping and being idle but to dispatch various scout parties to salvage whatever could be found from Robotnik's various abandoned operations within the Great Forrest.

Sometime late into the night, another group of refugees came in. One of them was suffering from a festering infection resulting from a cut on a can. He was taken to Doctor Quack where after a long drawn out overnight battle the patient died. These days, Robotnik didn't even need his machines. Simple Mobian frailties were enough to do us in. In the morning, we found a tree away from any robotic concentrations, dug a hole in the roots and buried him in typical Knothole tradition.

I looked around at our small army: less than a hundred Mobians and myself. The majority is of us armed with older-model firearms or newer model laser rifles repurposed from our fallen robotic foes. None of us was without scars. We could commit to fights and win small local engagements. But at the rate we're going there would not be enough of us left alive to carry on the struggle.

"Look!" Sonic gasped.

My heart hammered loudly but steadily in my chest as my head snapped up into the sky, then back and forth at my fellow Freedom Fighters. Unthinkingly, at this announcement of a threat, I balled my fists and stepped forward. But it was plain to see there was nothing to fight. Everything in the meadow slowed down and I became keenly aware of each blade of grass and the intense smells of flowers. When I looked up once again, the sky certainly was strange today.

Up against the pastels of blue, I saw swift-moving lights. The distant roar of engines. Then, the bright beams of light and the distant rumble of a far-off explosion.

"There's a dogfight going on up there!" Sonic grabbed me, almost too roughly.

"Do you think it's -?"

"Well, it sure ain't those four-fingered Overlander freaks up there c'mon."

The first Hover Swat decked in Acorn army pastels of brown and blue swooped in for a landing on a clearing within the Great Forrest. The Mobians who stepped out were battle-scarred but seemed confident. "You must be Princess Sally" a well-endowed bat dressed in a definitely non-regulation skin-tight suit complete with a pink heart-shaped breastplate greeted. "I'm Special Agent Rogue and I'll be escorting you over to the prince."

"I'm very glad to see you too," I said before turning to Sonic who had practically fallen over himself to make an exaggerated salute to the disinterested bat "This is Sonic, the hero of Mobius."

"Scary-looking tyke," Rogue said, looking him up and down. "Run along now, youngster. The prince is not known for his patience, and we've had a hot welcome to this hellhole."

"Sonic is coming with me and fortunately for you, we are patient," I said, stepping forward. "We've waited years for you to get here."

"And so, you have. But the prince only wishes to see you," she reiterated.

"No," I interrupted. "I am not going with you. These are my people and for a decade, this has been our war. You," I said, pointing at the arrogant bat, "you will tell your prince that we welcome him. We'll be glad to meet him. When he comes here."

I turned and walked away not knowing if Sonic would follow. But after a few seconds, I heard the sound of his footsteps on the grass beside me.

"Was that a smart move, Sal? They've come to help." He asked, matching my stride.

"No. They're here to stop Robotnik. Not to help."

"Look, I hate the idea of having to put anyone six feet under. But I'll make an exception for Robuttnik. Besides, when you stop and think about it isn't it really the same thing!"

I stopped walking. "Listen to me, Sonic. If we don't play our cards right, we're going to end up being pawns in this struggle."

"Nu-uh, that's your brother we're talking about. He's one of the good guys. That's not going to happen." he said.

"We'll see," I said.

Shortly thereafter, Johnny Lightfoot bounding through the foliage to inform me that another much larger aircraft was inbound in one of the clearings.

"Are you happy now?" Sonic asked.

"It's a start."

Sonic took us to the clearing where Elias's men had gathered. The troops disgorging from the transports were primarily Acorn army personnel, the majority of whom still donning on their old uniforms but dotted among them were Echidna warriors with their flowing dreadlocks and wielding their advanced particle wave technology.

Eventually, we were escorted aboard a rather beautiful aircraft, unlike the others I'd seen.

It was five times the size of any fighter I'd ever encountered. The main section was a fantastically elongated oval that stretched way out in front of three oversized, swept-back engines. Overhead was the long, gracefully arced spike of the main top-of-the-line Echidna laser. Oh, she was a thing of beauty. Mounted the rear was stationed powerful telecommunication array from an Egg Mobile. One of Robotnik's own personal craft. I had never fallen in love with a machine before, but the former Royal Shuttle was a work of art that would have made Rotor drool with envy.

Elias was there on the unloading ramp issuing orders to corral the menagerie scurrying below into some semblance of order. In spite of the great blue overcoat around his slender frame and the faint traces of burn scars that marred his face, he was instantly recognisable. Beside him stood a stocky bulldog who seemed to be carved out of solid steel and glared at us with the intensity a laser beam.

"Princess Acorn," Colonel Somersby said. "You're no doubt to be commended for having hidden out all these years. We'll reward whoever took care of you. Was it you, hedgehog? You have my gratitude. Anything you want."

To his subordinates, he barked. "Get the perimeter set-up. I want a full sensor sweep as soon as we clear tree level. There may still be one or two Buzz Bombers left flying."

Here it was, Sally's childhood fantasy, coming true at long last. But I had no time to enjoy it. This makes me feel very sad. I had to remain totally unimpressed. I had to lead my people.

"Brother... Elias," I said, in a friendly but not deferential tone. "You have a lot to learn about the situation here. If you'd like, we can give you a briefing."

"A briefing? I have a little time, " he chuckled and I had to struggle to control my temper.

"There are seventeen robofacs spread throughout Robotropolis with a further thirty-three minifacs engaged into all manner of mining, salvage and recycling operations in the outlying areas," I said.

"You've actually seen them?"

"We're aware that Robotnik is busy extracting iron, bauxite, nickel, tin, copper, uranium, as well as various gemstones that are useful for focusing laser weapons for his new project: a moon-sized station capable of raining destruction from above."

Elias stared. His officers stared.

"Shall I continue?"

Elias nodded his head slowly.

"We also suspect that he might also be building an updated version of Silver Sonic, based upon a new design but similar in capabilities."

"By the source," Elias gasped. "Is that information reliable?"

"Snively has defected to us and has been a big help," I confirmed.

Elias paused "We have two-dozen fighters, two transport re-supply craft. A total of less than a thousand combat capable warriors."

"But that's not enough!" I protested.

"This is going to be a tough little war, sis," Elias said grimly. "A very tough little war."


	19. Icarus Part I

**Icarus Part I**

There's been so little time to write lately, but that has largely been due to circumstance. How can one describe the gnashing mouth of war when you're caught inside its jaws? At first, I found myself deliberately disregarding my diary, instead focusing on my duties as the defining voice of the Freedom Fighters, but in truth, that was a smokescreen for me not wanting to remember the mistakes of my past, and it hadn't taken long for me to forget about it in its entirety.

Reading through some of these earlier entries has been insightful, and I find myself once more inclined to put my thoughts down on paper.

In retrospect, I was acting a lot like a rebellious teenager. This doesn't surprise me really. I've needed to grow up very fast and very strangely. No, my behaviour doesn't surprise me, not in the least. What does is how much I've let self-loathing and impulse govern my decisions. I suppose I was young and still am, and I'm still so unsure of whom I am and whom I wanted to be.

In any case, I suppose it's best to start at the beginning. Less than eighteen hours after Elias had arrived, his men had set up the beginnings of a makeshift camp with a 15-foot high chain link fence topped with spirals of razor wire that surrounded the village. He claimed it was to keep wild animals and potential interlopers out, but I had already thought of about forty better ways to accomplish this besides razor wire and armed guards. Besides, they only fenced in about twelve acres, which was an inadequate amount of space for the numbers we already had, let alone the thousands that I knew would be streaming in soon.

In the end, I said nothing, since the trees were higher than the fence to begin with, and that was at the very least a transient comfort.

In many ways, I find that maintaining conflicts is easier than forging friendships. In those difficult weeks, friendship was all we had to offer. I was well-versed in the art of war: weighing losses against gains, assets against liabilities. Now I had to consider learning the art of diplomacy to nurture the precious relationship we established with our government in exile, and we needed all the help we could get because when news of the Great Forest as a safe haven broke through to the outside world, a steady flow of migrants started streaming in.

We were diligent, at first. As was our practice we kept detailed tallies, not just of the number of people, but of genders, ages, heights, weights and even province of origin. I knew it would be difficult to integrate them but I also knew that breaking down pre-existing social structures would breed resentment, as most of the new migrants tended to cluster together with people they already knew. This was something that helped to ease them and keep them from becoming unruly.

After a while, however, all talk of social engineering ceased when we started becoming overwhelmed to the point where we stopped taking any kind of detail in our censuses. Instead, we had one person assigned to tic off how many were arriving and even that turned out not to matter since groups of unauthorized migrants slipped in amid the obscuring multitude or found their way in over the fence in the dead of night.

Those weeks were quite difficult for Sonic and I as well. There was a lot of disagreement, a lot of shouting. He didn't -or refused to- understand why I couldn't 'chillax' now that we weren't actively fighting against Robotnik. I couldn't find the words to tell him how saddled down I was with new obligations and how uncertain our futures still were. It got violent sometimes. Lots of posturing, lots of arms and legs thrashed in rage. I slapped him once, but not hard, and not on purpose and I immediately apologised afterwards.

I felt helpless a lot of that time. Some days, I felt less like a leader and more like an extra hand to be coerced into signing treaties and documents for the advantage of the many puppeteers that now surrounded me.

Luckily, most groups were accommodating, save for one: the Overlander delegation, led by Abraham Tower.

About a week into the truce, a few Overlander helicopters landed in our rough and ready encampment, one of which contained the self-styled president of the United Federation government-in-exile and Commander in chief of G.U.N.

They claimed to come in the spirit of cooperation and to work out a treaty between our peoples against Robotnik, our mutual adversary, but I knew it was more a political gesture than a genuine attempt at reconciliation. Their delegation came with a low-ranking official by the name of Maria Kintobar (no relation, she assures me) and a few bodyguards whose sole purpose it seemed was to intimidate me.

By that point, I had gained some skill at negotiation. Elias had been kind enough to bring me law textbooks, political doctrines, manifestos, and all sorts of other rhetorical texts to kick-start my education. It was some of the most difficult crash course reading I've ever accomplished, but my skills with negotiation had improved considerably. Overlanders were difficult, manipulative and above-all driven by selfish personal agenda, but not all.

Abraham Tower expected only a smile and a signature, but Elias and I had very specific demands for them:

First, that a substantial portion of the Overlander scientific team would be wholly devoted to the endeavour of reversing the roboticization process on our people. Addendum to this was the suspension of Snively's sentence with an option for amnesty for good behaviour.

Second, that for the duration of the final battle their military would be subordinated to Elias and his council of war. They groused and grumbled at this prospect.

I called them "reparations" to settle the unpaid obligations owed to the Acorn Kingdom which his government had apparently inherited. They weren't happy about the demands, but they didn't walk away entirely. It was a waiting game and a test of who would crack first under the circumstances.

Elias called an emergency meeting the following day. The diplomatic situation, though not dire, was inching that way, and immediate action had to be taken to mend it.

They were upset, to say the least, and retired to their aircraft and left behind a gaggle of war correspondents to record the debacle of posterity sake. I felt those threatened, prey instincts exacerbated by the claustrophobia of flashbulbs and boom microphones and buzzing war correspondents flare up, so I decided to retire early to be with Tails without a final, private consultation.

By Elias's advice, I've decided to officially adopt Tails into the family. In retrospect, this may have been a mistake, for I spend most of my time working these days and hardly see him. I hate this. I hate this a lot. I've tried to bond with him; to earn the kind of trust only shared by parent and child, but he always pulls away. It's almost as if he's ashamed of acting like a child around me or being anything but a good citizen and follower around me.

This is made all the more apparent when I offer him a treat and he thinks it's some secret test of character. He stiffens when I chastise him for petty childish misbehaviour; he swallows back tears and laughter when I'm around. I make him feel uncomfortable. I make him feel stiff and unwelcome in our home. This realisation might have made life feel entirely unbearable to me save a chance discovery. Only one thing makes him act like my child when I'm around:

Thunderstorms.

This discovery couldn't come at a more opportune time, for a melancholic depression had manifested itself in the form of severe headaches that I could barely work through. Most private moments in a day were spent resisting the ever-increasing urge to break down into sobs.

The rain started early and I watched the storm growl and grow angry, I watched it whip the forest around. I felt Tails whimper as he nestled deep into my arms.

He begs me not to tell Sonic about this even as he watched the rain from beneath the canopy, the way it twisted and changed in every strobe of lightning. The wind howled, the boughs moaned and creaked with the weight of their shoots holding the oncoming downpour, and our entire domicile shook and swayed in the gusts of wind and rain.

Sally had seen a couple of bad thunderstorms before, but that paled in comparison compared to this. I sighed as a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky and grew despondent at imagining the clean-up this would require tomorrow.

I felt his gloved hand on my hip before I heard him. He was sobbing. "Mama," he whimpered as he grasped for more of my protective embrace. "Oh, Tails. Shush, come here, you're all right." I cooed as I turned, lifted, and pulled him to my front. He clung deeply to me, driving his wrist and knee into my skin, burying his face into my chest. I wrapped my arms tightly around him as he sobbed.

"It's all right," I assured him. "I won't let it hurt you. Shush, my love. It's not going to hurt you. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you as long as I'm here." I whispered to him with motherly gentleness.

I held him and hummed one of mother's lullabies till he fell into a calm slumber, and he did so before the rain stopped, and of course, I kept my promise.

For Sonic, it didn't even matter—once he was asleep, nothing would wake him, least of all torrential rain, high winds, or lightning and thunder. It didn't matter for me, either. I wouldn't sleep. The thunder and lightning had little to do with that. I just didn't sleep much at all anymore, but that night, with my little two-tailed kit sleeping in my arms, I finally got some of that rare comfort that gives one rest.

The both of us slept in till late morning, and by the time we arose, an army of pioneers were already hard at work restoring the damages from the storm.

"Aunt Sally?" Tails asked me.

"Yes, Tails?" I asked him in reply.

"Will you and Sonic get married just like Aunt Bunnie and Antoine?" He inquired in all of his innocence.

"I can't, not yet I -" I replied with a heavy sigh as I stumbled over my words.

"When can you?" He asked.

I shrugged "I don't know, Tails. I want us to be a family here permanently but—"

"I understand." He replied with a disappointed sigh.

"Don't do that," I begged him. "I'm sorry, Tails, but please, tell me you're angry if you're angry."

Tails looked down. " I know it's selfish but I just want you here," he said as he looked back up to me with his sky-blue eyes. "Aunt Bunnie doesn't think I know, but I do. People are going to get hurt and I can't be scared. I have to be strong "

"And I'll be strong for you," I assured him.

At this, Tails began to cry. "How can you be if you aren't here? You're never here," he said through his sobs.

I wracked my brain, turning away, then I looked up at him and smiled, "Walkie Talkies. The army gave us tons. You know how they work, right?"

"Yes, but—" He began to reply, his eyes still wet with tears.

"If you need anything at all, you can just call me. If you just need to be reassured. If you need to talk I can be here without being here." I explained to him.

"Aunt Sally—" He began to say.

"This is the best compromise I can offer, Tails. I can't be in two places at once, and I have to keep us all alive through this," I interrupted.

Tails breathed deeply and pursed his lips, he more used to accepting all of my poor compromises than he should be. "Okay."

I gave Tails a long, comforting kiss, told him he was the bravest person I knew, which felt a little condescending but it made him smile and made it so I could take off for work as the last of the summer fire collapsed into embers.

On the third day, however, the low-ranking official by the name of Maria Kintobar approached me.

"We understand that many of your people languish under the dreaded roboticization by Robotnik," Maria said. "We're willing to offer the best medical experts and scientists we can to help your people."

I refused their offer.

I accused them of manipulating my personal relationships. I think I called it bribery, or maybe emotional coercion. I got angry, much angrier than the advice in Overlander texts recommended. I informed them in no uncertain terms that conceptualizing me as a weak-willed, corruptible leader was a mistake. That I would not give in to temptation so easily and that manipulating me in such a base, unforgivable way was not the way I thought Overlander chivalry was supposed to work.

However, I would be lying to say if it didn't tempt me. It would mean giving Bunnie every possible chance of saving her limbs. It would mean genuinely being able to tell myself that I had done every possible thing to help her. Giving in to their terms would give me my most pressing, immediate desire, but it would most likely have unforeseen consequences later down the line when we're pressing ahead with the final battle and I think I will probably be dead before any of those horrible consequences I had imagined would come to pass, but that's not the leader I wanted to be.

I wept when I refused, but this was well after I got home. The abstract generosity and selflessness that I afforded my people meant nothing if I couldn't protect Sally's friends. My friends. All that mattered now was Bunnie, whom I betrayed, and for many heartwrenching moments after that, I felt that I had broken a promise, and neglected her needs over petty politics.

The Overlander delegation let me sweat for a day. Reporters hovered over a card table we had laid out for negotiations, holding boom microphones and making frantic calls to and fro from our two camps every quarter hour. For the better part of the day, the Overlander delegation stayed aboard their aircraft, keeping out of sight, doors closed.

When the treaty was finally signed by representatives from both sides. I did not let my relief cloud my strategic judgment. I insisted that a copy of the treaty be made a matter of public record, I pushed for every shred of transparency I could get, I was to receive daily summaries of the day's research programs and written testimonies from experts on the state of things.

We shared a private luncheon with the Overlanders complete with a whirlwind of introductions, perfumes, alcohol, and pungent animal-based foods. There was Sam Speed, a famous former race car driver turned ace fighter pilot and Chuck Thorndyke famous scientist and inventor. Our hosts were gracious enough to put out a table of acorns, but as with most well-meaning favours they do for us, it was dry and inedible. The rowdy patrons focused their gossip on me, which never does much good for my insecurities.

We did try to push our agenda of sharing military technology, but Abraham Tower did have more than his own fair share of detractors within his own camp and they vehemently denied our requests. I don't blame them, and it was probably a truth best learnt early.

It was just as I had assumed so long ago: their alliance with us was more out of an act of desperation. They doubted our capabilities to defeat our mutual enemies and wouldn't admit that they considered us potential future enemies once things were resolved.

I still don't blame them for passing judgement on us and like I said I still have a lot to learn, but that still doesn't mean I had to be happy about the whole situation.

That being said, as with so many things to bring the war to a conclusion, I had to fake understanding, to express forgiveness for mother's death at their hands prior to the Great War. I had to lie. I had to play the role of hard-pressed, Sally Acorn, tough-as-nails Freedom Fighter. I had to nod my head and say: 'Thanks for your generosity human, but please don't neglect our people' with markedly false courtesy.

The next day, I got the first real opportunity to speak with my brother.

I can't describe exactly how I felt around him. Starstruck. Charmed. Threatened. Some combination of the three, even though I knew Elias wasn't wholly trustworthy.

He'd gained a great deal of mythos since addressing my people as the direct and legal continuation of the Acorn government (never-mind the questionable legality of a government that hadn't set foot in a land they claimed to administer in nearly a decade).

I watched him silently as he mingled and glad-handed with my people. I noticed the way he glanced up at me every few minutes as though he were seeking my approval.

We shook hands on a couple of separate occasions, mostly for photo-ops. In the pictures, I seemed tired and browbeaten, but Elias gave off that great impression of easy comfort and charisma that made me feel comfortable around him. I knew Sally probably had millions of photos taken for her but those pictures are the only ones I don't hate looking at. I don't know if he's just incredibly good at his job, but Elias seemed sincerely glad to be standing with me, and I look half as stiff and guarded as I usually do.

That didn't ameliorate some of the troubling things he muttered to me before those pictures were taken. 'Hope your Freedom Fighters are up to snuff.' 'How is the supplies situation looking?' It was typical of political small talk. No offers of assistance, no sincere sympathy or insinuations of solidarity, just a sort of removed interest, like someone watching a trapeze artist cross a tightrope.

Apart from photos, that trip was the first time I actually got to speak to him in person.

The morning after the party, Elias invited me on board the Alicia for a private meeting. "Just pleasant company and no shop talk." He assured me. I didn't feel like I had much of a choice, so of course, I agreed. Hard to argue with the presence of a staff car complete with Acorn Kingdom flags that showed up at my doorstep.

Of course, there was someone waiting there who I had gotten very well acquainted with over these few weeks...

"Sally!?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Hi, sis."

Megan took a few moments to get herself back together. Once she did, she beamed widely, rushed out and practically squealed with joy at seeing me, wasting no time in hugging her sister-in-law beneath a loving embrace.

"Oh wow, you came. Your brother told me so much about you! But you must've got so much to say. Anything you want to tell me. Like when the two of you were kids? Off the record of course" Upon seeing my struggles to breathe, she quickly relaxed her grip. "Oh sorry, I bet you've got so much to share with us!" She apologized as I coughed and regained respiratory function.

After the awkward meeting, I sat down with the in-laws and kept things civil, if only for the sake of my baby-niece Alexis and the proud mother. It was only when little Alexis began wailing for her bottle and Megan had to excuse herself that Elias had the opportunity to level with me one-on-one in his private office.

I remembered sitting in that leather chair, folding my hands in my lap and avoided eye contact with him as he carefully sized me up, cradling his chin in his hand, slouching against his desk which crumpled his freshly pressed and starched uniform.

"You're big enough for the chair now, " he noted, taking me by surprise.

"So, you've noticed. It's been years, brother I've grown," I said, uncrossing my legs.

Elias rested his head on his hand before speaking: "I just don't know what to make of you," he finally said.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"You're not quite the same ever since I've met you. Are you?" He asked.

I slumped a little. He was more insightful than I'd thought. I hate underestimating people.

"Are you planning on leading an uprising?" he asked.

I was a little shocked by his candidness, having expected a sprightly game of charades, but I felt my anxiety ebb. I was much better with open conflicts than with covert scheming.

"Not during your term as regent," I smiled reassuringly.

He smiled back. I relaxed. There was a sense of diffused tension, now that we honestly acknowledged each other as rightful antagonists.

"You know, when we got that message and travelled all the way down here that address was one of the hardest things I'd ever done as king-in-waiting, you know, " he remarked.

"You're practically the king now," I scoffed.

"Prince-Regent technically, but that's not my point. I'm not talking about the acclaim, which gets redundant rather fast. I'm talking about the solitude. The alienation. The knowledge that you're the only person with the power to make things right, and if you do it, you have to keep doing it. There is no finish line, no happily ever after. A hard decision is usually rewarded with an even harder one, ad infinitum," he explained with a heady sigh.

"I was a prince without a kingdom," Elias continued. "Yet, I brokered an alliance with the Echidnas. I led a campaign on the ground within the Feral Forrest where I met my wife. Great things happened during my regency. Heck, they used an emergency congressional vote to move up my post because of my experience. What if our cabinet decides to amend our constitution and expedite my coronation?"

"You deserve it, and you certainly don't strike me as an arrogant man," I replied.

"You think I've kept my position without being a little bit of wrangling? Come on. Not all of us are best friends with a 'Hero of Mobius'. Some of us actually have to campaign for it..." Elias paused, glanced to the side and let loose an audible sigh. "If only dad were here to see this through. I can't remember how he would have dealt with all this loneliness."

"Lonely," I repeated. "Even if you did remember, I doubt we would be any wiser. Dad usually kept his own counsel."

"Yes. I think we both are, aren't we?" He mentioned.

I felt a swell of emotion in my chest. Out of everyone who'd spoken with me, entered into debate with me, admired my bravery and strength he was the first to truly understand. It was all the more a pity that he would undoubtedly be a political opponent in the near future.

"Now on a practical note," Elias instructed me to hold out my hands and produced a pair of blue bands from his overcoat.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Try them on for size, my head scientist Dr Ellidy whipped them up from regular old power rings. He calls them 'ring-blades'." Elias said as he slipped the rings over my wrist. "Alright, now clench your fists together - impressed?" he asked as I observed dumbfounded at the approximately twenty-inch blade of solid blue light that suddenly appeared when I followed his instructions. "It's even your colour" he wryly noted before the blades faded away with another clench of my fists.

"Are you alright?" Elias asked again. It was then that I realised I hadn't responded for several minutes.

"So what?" I asked, "you want to be friends?"

"I don't know, Sally. We've been apart for years. And the odds of us reconciling aren't great" he said, reaching up and patting my shoulder. "Just know that you're not alone and just try to think of us as a family every once in a while, alright?"

On the way back home, I wondered if he had manipulated me. If his agenda was to make me feel comfortable and familiar so that I would be easier to pacify and use in the future. Elias was a smart man and a shrewder politician, but for that long walk home, I decided not to worry. I decide to let myself feel like I could be a part of some community, even if there was only enough room for two.


	20. Icarus Part II

**Icarus Part II**

I spent the next few days overseeing the movement of supplies to our hidden airstrip in the Great Forest. I deployed a few dozen extra soldiers for the inevitable slaughter alongside the supplies we needed to maintain our growing force -well over a thousand Freedom Fighters according to an incomplete census- not to mention the thousands more that would soon be pouring in.

If I had any illusion that signing the treaty would have allowed things to settle down and allow me to spend more time with my Sonic, Tails and Elias, I was gravely mistaken. The United Federation demands were incessant and accelerating.

Knothole was still strictly off-limits except to those on official business, but their officials wanted to establish an expeditionary camp as soon as possible. There was still a lot of conflict over where the site would be established, but once the forecasts of the Overlander commitment to the fight rolled in it was clear that a camp was needed to hold the men and material.

It was an issue that I had little personal interest in, but it was one I had ultimately decided did in-fact concern me. This, in addition to the myriad of issues that did concern me, including establishing demarcations for our respective camps, legislating rights for Overlanders who broke boundaries, and punishments for Mobians who hurt them, made me decide to hire a human staff.

This was an issue I had put-off as long as I could because honestly, I still didn't trust our former enemies. Maria Kintobar exercised a stable degree of authority amongst the Overlander troops on the ground and a degree of sway over the congressional aides. That, along with a recommendation from Elias and all that behind-the-scenes wrangling that politicians are so fond of, was what led to her appointment as a liaison officer. Doubt was what held sway over my emotions, but by the time I had shaken hands with the dozen or so staff members she had brought with her, I actually felt relieved.

It took a bit of getting used to, but once we did we worked with such synergy that it was like we were all from the same family or at least the same race. Maria Kintobar had been a graduate of Pacific City in International Relations and held the lofty goal of 'finding common grounds for mutual respect and tolerance between our species', or rather, pointing out what we all can agree on. She and her staff performed their duties well, and the more I let myself trust them, the more they accomplished and the better they became at their jobs.

With my tasks accomplished for the day, I found myself with a moment of free time: enough to be with Sonic for a bit and trying not to mate with him. A self-imposed punishment perhaps, celibacy. When I got home, I found him soundly asleep, and I found myself frustrated in more ways than one. So, I decided to head home (though by now it may be more accurately referred to as 'downtown') to be with my people and introduce myself to as many of the new newcomers as possible.

There, much to my surprise, was a group of Overlanders off-loading an unusual array of off-white, aesthetically benign technology. Some of them went about the forest with handheld scanners and marked off areas for some indiscernible reason. It wasn't immediately apparent, but they were setting up a hospital station.

"Ah, Sally," Maria said, stopping me. "I didn't get a chance to speak with you before you left but I hope it's all right if we set up here."

"Set up what?" I inquired.

"We've chosen to uphold our original offer to your people. Though I realize you view us with a justifiable degree of scepticism and disbelief, we have every desire for you to believe our intentions of friendship are pure." Maria replied, "Please, accept our assistance. Let us heal your people."

I frowned. I knew it was a public relations stunt. I knew that then, I know that now. The image of a couple of pale-skinned humans scientists hunched over equations in some isolated laboratory is not photogenic, nor is a room full of politicians shaking hands, but a bunch of doctors treating the poor orphaned children of the war would make great press whether they were in Knothole or even all the way back in the remnants of the United Federation.

Of course, I imposed triage and, consequently, Bunnie went last.

I tell myself that I did this out of selflessness, but I knew that it was partly because I still didn't trust the humans. The human doctors were not as well-versed in politics as their diplomats. I remember how they laid Bunnie down on their L-shaped gurney, grumbling about a lack of effective tools as they scanned her body within a sort of antibiotic force field shield. I recalled how they groused and griped about the mosquitos and how they just wanted to be done so they could go home.

Bunnie was nervous, as was to be expected. She'd seen the effect the human doctors had on the others, but she didn't understand the detailed scanning process. Of course, I was just as nervous for the exact same reason, but in these sorts of circumstances she looked up to me for reassurance and held still as I had encouraged her to, but she never let go of my hand.

"She needs to hold still princess, tell your friend to stop squirming." A male physician demanded of me.

"You're scaring her," I told the physician as he recalibrated the scanner settings.

"Ah ain't scared," Bunnie mumbled.

I squeezed her hand and turned back to the human who merely scoffed. "That's no surprise. Most of the Mobians here were spooked as well; technology has that effect."

"I think your bedside manner is upsetting her more than your trinkets," I snapped at him.

"Then what would you suggest, O' Wise One?" the physician asked sarcastically.

"Tell her what you're doing. She'll calm down if you talk her through it," I replied, the human chose to glare at me rather than honour my request before returning to his work.

A little bit later, after I presumed he was happy with the scans, he began to pack up his equipment. "That's it? she's incurable?" I said tightening my grip on Bunnie's hand, trying to keep desperation and panic out of my voice, but Bunnie knew her friend well and she visibly stiffened and whimpered.

"These were just preliminary scans. I've got to forward these on to our primary medical centre to generate a detailed model on your friend's nervous structure." The physician explained.

"How long will that take?" I asked.

"Several hours at least," the human replied with an impatient crossing of his arms, "you do us the great favour of saving the patient with the most delicate treatment for last, so instead of asking me every two minutes what I'm doing and when I'll be done, why don't we agree to make this process go as smoothly and quietly as possible, all right?"

"You'll be responsible for its interpretation?" I asked him.

"I'm a general practitioner by trade. And, due to the…sensitive nature of the particular patient, G.U.N has decided to grant you the expertise of one of the planet's top neurologists" the human's posture straightened in pride at his own reply, but I slumped.

"Isn't it a little optimistic to assume he's going to get here by then?" I asked worriedly.

The human looked confused for a moment before he rolled his eyes and replied. "He's not coming here, Sally. He'll be performing the readings back in the Rockies."

"He'll be doing the interpretation remotely?" I inquired.

"I know this may be scary to you, but we've been doing this for centuries. Your friend is in safe hands." He replied.

I pressed my fingertips to my temples. I felt like crying, I was so stressed, and though this was only a minor unexpected detail, I just wanted to be done with all of this and have Bunnie be cured.

"Thank you," I said as sincerely as I could.

The human scoffed and asked. "I take it you can care for her until I get back?"

"Go back to your camp and mope, human. We've come this far without your help." I snapped at him.

I had been civil with them until that point. Perhaps we were all just exhausted, and reaching such a tedious hurdle penultimate to the finish line was irritating to us all, but I considered that the last straw. Fortunately, though undiplomatic, he was perceptive enough to stay out of our way until there was news.

"We'll be back tomorrow to deliver the report." The physician said.

"Hey Sally Girl, thanks for helping me through that" Bunnie whispered. "Ah know everyone's doing their part but even if it doesn't work out its not your fault, alright?"  
I nodded.

"Well, Rotor says that he's working really hard on something that jus might be possible and its askin a lot for you to drop everything for little ol' me, but here's the invite to the ceremony. Nothin fancy, yea know." Bunnie said.

I swallowed and said, "I'll be there."

"Well, in case you forget I got Sugah Hog to remind ya, just in case you-" Bunnie began to say.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world Bunnie, don't you worry," I assured her.

The readings came in around 4:30 a.m. after a couple hours of me trying vainly to get some sense of sleep, and the results were forwarded to Rotor. He said he would need to work hard and he wasn't kidding; for days he laboured alongside the brightest minds in all of Mobius along with a small army of technicians and lab assistants. Rotor worked day and night, leaving only to sleep. His entire waking world was confined to the laboratory; meals and restroom breaks included.

My focus, however, had been with my people. We would fight with (or perhaps for) Elias, but I would choose where my people will fight and in what battles. I would commit my better fighters less often, hoping they would live long enough for the final blitz. I will condemn some of my less skilled people to harder fights in which I know we will suffer casualties because their loss would cost me less.

I am treating my people like chess pieces, and I don't even know if I'm playing the best strategy. I assign squad leaders and drill them relentlessly. I judge their ability based on little more other than their talent, brutality, and their propensity to follow orders. It sounds heartless and almost cruel, and I know war is more complex than this, but I don't know how else to go about it.

I find myself learning to be thankful for Tail's injury. If he was healthy, I could not in good conscience keep him out of the fight any longer. He could fly. He's fast and agile. He could act as a decoy and draw enough fire so that our assault squads can accomplish their missions. I hate that I think in those terms. I hate that if given the choice, I would risk the life of even my own adopted child just to gain a tactical advantage, but that`s war; that`s the cruel and future-less mindset of it all, and I have to think that way so at least most of them can live a life without this horrible war.

And as I am writing this, I wish I could tell you that war was the only thing that caused pain and death, but that was not the case, and probably still isn't.

It was almost exactly a week since the signing of the treaty when it happened. It was late into the afternoon and into a thirteen-hour coffee fuelled work shift when the first reports filtered through.

"Feck," Maria muttered as her staff crowded about the radio. It was a mish-mash of information: eye-witness accounts, irrelevant opinions of 'experts' and viewers flooded the airwaves and were funnelled through the grey plastic grid on the front of the speaker. It took a bit of time to piece the facts together, but the events became clear very quickly: Two adolescent Mobians had left Knothole, slipping over the fence, but that wasn't the bad part, that sort of thing happened all of the time, though I had to discipline them. I didn't particularly blame them having done so - supplies were stretched thin and the pre-fabricated shelters assembled by the army were uncomfortable – so who wouldn`t want to step out for a bit once in a while.

They made their way into the Overlander camp and that was where the exact details became fuzzy. The reporters at the scene blamed "misinformation on a Mobian's diet" as the cause of the incident, but it very soon became clear that was not the case.

Two Overlander sentries had spotted the Mobian youths rummaging through trash and in the clear light of day and killed them both with rifles meant to ward off wildlife.

It wasn't the first unnatural death in Knothole, nor would it be the last. Plenty of Mobians with poor judgment had found themselves lost and eventually succumbing to the elements of the Great Forest. I hated hearing news like that, but I couldn't blame myself for the brutality of Mobius; that was beyond my control. The only thing I had any degree of control over was the brutality of humanity. This was the first time their hate had directly harmed - no, directly murdered - my people.

I felt myself growing faint as more details emerged.

Once the Mobian teens were dead, the sentries had constructed crude crucifixes and hanged their mangled bodies upon them, perhaps as a message to the rest of us, or perhaps as an act of defiance, I don't know. A small, vocal minority of Overlanders had formed a small hate rally against the treaty. Torches, burning crosses, all the sort of iconography that I had come to associate with human hatred and front and centre of it all was two of our dead people put up as a symbol of their contempt.

This time I didn't even protest when the official car came over to pick up Maria and I, and when we got aboard the Alicia, it was clear Elias and his staff weren't faring much better as his staff flew to the phones to get a clearer picture of what was going on.

I sat down in the meeting room in a state of shock. "I can't breathe." I gasped.

Sonic showed up, trying to get my attention "Sal come outside."

"My liege sending a car to their camp right now, but…hold on…" a staff officer called out.

"You bastard, we had a deal" Colonel Somersby yelled into the phone. He slammed the receiver down once before ripping the phone from its cord and shattering it on a wall across the room. Everyone paused to stare, the tension in the air was palpable.

"Give it to us lightly," Elias said quietly.

"They can't be prosecuted for murder. There's no law in the human books that says that Mobians are anything but nonhuman. The most they'll get is illegal poaching, which only carries a sentence of three to five years." The Colonel replied in a restrained voice, though everyone in the room could tell that he wanted to break more than just the phone.

"I can't breathe," I sobbed, curling my fists against my temples. I felt everyone looking at me, felt everyone waiting for me to react, waiting for me to decide how grave and important this was, but all I wanted to do was faint and let Sonic carry me home and hum me to sleep. "Elias, please say something. Please do this, please be the face of this, please." I pleaded of my brother.

"I thought we'd taken care of that," he whispered, sounding just as sickened as I felt. No, I realised, I felt anger and came to the conclusion that I needed to be there.

"Why didn't we?" I roared, rising to my feet, throwing the chair off of my rear end. "Why wasn't this the first thing we did when we set up this forsaken alliance?" I demanded of them.

"We did, we got laws on the books in but—" Spoke one of the politicians.

"But not within the borders of the United Federation, " I seethed, interrupting him. "No, Mobians aren't sapient, aren't human anywhere except here. Killing us isn't murder anywhere except right here in Knothole."

Sonic was at my side, the only one in the room not staring at me in terror. I doubt he even understood what had happened, let alone what it meant. He kept trying to thrust a glass of water at me, and I was too angry to throw him aside.

"This is the precedent we set," I raged, turning to each in turn "This was a foregone conclusion; we all knew this would happen eventually, that petty, violent and stupid humans were capable of something like this. The only thing we ever had control over was how we got to present it. And look what we did. Killing us is no different than shooting a duck out of season!"

"Maybe this is good. Maybe this will curb favour—" Spoke someone in the room.

"Good?" I screamed, too enraged to even acknowledge who had said it. "How can this be good in any universe? My people were murdered and these backwards laws call it hunting. No, this is not good. This can never happen again. I want sanctions. I want sanctions. I want extradition. I want the universal bill of Human Right amended to include us. I want…I…" I stumbled, the air was stolen from my lungs and a cold sweat broke out across my brow.

"Sal, please come outside," Sonic pleaded with me as he took my arm and tried to usher me outside.

"I can't rest right now!" I screamed, wresting my arm from him. "This isn't about me, this isn't about you or some dumb ceremony! None of that matters if humans are free to kill us with minimal penalties. Making life doesn't matter if we're not allowed to live it."

"Look everyone worries for you because you don't worry for yourself. I told everyone that my smart cookie knows what she's doin' so I said nothing. Now, it's time for me to say something. You. Need. To. Rest. Come home with me now." His grip on my forearm was tight, his resolve was strong. He wasn't going to give up.

But neither was I.

"Go home, Sonic. You're not allowed here anymore. I revoke permission." I hissed at him.

"Not without you!" Sonic stated.

"Get out of here! You moron, I don't want you here anymore! Go home!" It took almost a full three seconds before my frazzled mind has processed what I had actually said.

I released my grip on him in shock and backed up, covering my mouth with my hand and staring back at him. He didn't look hurt, not even disappointed, just scrunched up in worry.

"I'll go," he whispered. He made his way to the door, not ashamed in front of Elias, not desperate for their approval like I was. He was only worried about exactly one thing in this room, and I'd stubbornly kept him from caring for it.

I swallowed back my acidic guilt and sat down. Elias stared at me.

"I'll fix that later," I said slowly to them. "We need to make lots of calls, and we need to make them now. I need to release a statement, and I should probably do so live. Maria, you'll need to write me up a draft and I'll revise. I want this to be personal. The Overlanders need to see us as people, not as aliens, not even as foreigners or refugees, but as equals."

"Your adoption will probably help," Maria said. "If people see that all you want is to have a family…well, that's something we can all relate to."

Everyone was quiet for a long time until Elias made his way over to me and placed a gentle hand against my forearm. "Sally, go home. We'll do everything we can. We'll work through the night, but Sonic's right, you been working yourself ragged. You need to rest," he said.

"I can't, I have to be here if it happens again, I have-" I began to say.

"Sally, do you know how much I care about you and our people?" he whispered to me and in a lower voice continued "Do you know how much this hurts me?"

I looked up at him, nodded slightly.

"Do you trust me to make this right?" He asked.

"I do," I whispered. "But I'll … I'll be back by first light."

"You'd better be," Elias said nodding. "Go makeup with Sonic."

With aching feet and pounding heart, I raced home as fast as I could, desperate to have him hold me so I could crumble without risk of being seen as weak. He was waiting for me and embraced me so tightly I thought I would suffocate, but the air was not what I need right now.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed to him. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," he said, focused simultaneously on comforting me emotionally and physically, rubbing that spot on my back so expertly that my sobs turned into purrs. "I know."

* * *

In a small private ceremony by the creek, Bunnie and the others had talked till at last the sunlight had turned a dusky red. We reminisced about old times and gradually the meeting had lost its gravity and had instead become a celebration of the first wedding held at Knothole. All the guests had a great deal of tea, but as evening came on, the mood grew tense and sombre.

"Us?" Turning her head away from Antoine, Bunnie placed her biological hand to her face and blushed profusely "Why I just don't know. It's such a big fuss over a silly—"

Antoine, with a solemn expression affixed on his face, slid without hesitation from the loveseat, crouched before her and took Bunnie's biological hand in his. "Will you marry me, Bunnie?"

"Oh, Twan!" She giggled, and her face grew redder.

"Ooh, the blushing bride and groom," Amy crooned. "Oh, Bunnie. Say yes, please."

"Don't pressure me!" Bunnie cried. "Oh, Twan what more is there holding this back?"

Antoine opened his mouth as if to reply, but then he looked down to the floor with a deep spoke for a few minutes, and the only sound came from the breeze which rustled Amy's hand-sewn gown. I quietly coughed once but I immediately regretted making the intrusive noise.

With each passing second, Bunnie's smile faded and her happy smile shrank. She looked down at Antoine with a pained expression. First at his whiskers and then at the medal securely pinned on his uniform as he continued to stare at the ground with trouble on his brow.

At last, Amy said in a quiet but firm voice, "Do what you know is right. You feel it, deep down."

Heaving a great groan, as if he had just accomplished some fierce inner battle, Antoine said, "I repudiate my unrequited love for the princess."

Bunnie's eyes widened in wonder, and her mouth fell open, but she did not speak.

"Moi mademoiselle," Antoine said, "I want you and you alone. You're the only one I have ever wanted. I love you. I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes—"

"Don't," said Bunnie, shaking her head. "Oh, don't, or ya'll make it all seem silly. Yes, already. Yes, I'll marry you, you foolish boy."

"Marriage is silly," Amy said. "That is why it is so good."

Amy had a few cheap rings on her fingers. She pulled one off and stuck it in Sonic's hands. "There," she said. "You be the ring-bearer, okay."

"Oh, do I have to?" he asked.

"I think we should have a minister," Amy continued. "Um, Sally—?"

"Me? But—"

Amy clucked. "Who else? Go on, you know what to say."

"Not really." I turned to Bunnie and Antoine who stared back expectantly and I offered them a nervous laugh. "Maybe, I should get NICOLE, she would know what the words are."

"Oh, what's the difference?" Amy asked, "Go on, Sally, or this will take all evening."

I cleared my throat, fidgeted, and began to speak. "Okay, let's see, um, do you Bunnie Rabbot, take this man to be your... something something husband?"

Bunnie's grin turned to one of amusement. "Yes, a thousand times, yes," she said.

"Oh, Bunnie" Amy whispered, "you're supposed to say 'I do'."

"What's the difference?" Bunnie asked.

Amy nudged her.

"I do, then," she said.

I cleared my throat again. "And do you, Antoine D'Coolette, take Bunnie Rabbot to be your wife?"

"I do," he answered, his voice still full of gravity.

"Okay." I clapped my hands together. "Then I now pronounce you man and wife. How's that."

"It's perfect Sally Girl," Bunnie said. "What comes next?"

Lightly, I clasped my hands, took a deep breath, and smiled "You may now kiss the bride."

"I like that part." Antoine wrapped an arm around Bunnie's waist. She gasped, but he cut her off when he pressed his lips against hers. Amy nodded with a look of satisfied approval but nonetheless placed a hand over Tail's eyes.

After almost a minute, Antoine let Bunnie catch her breath.

* * *

I awoke well after first light.

Things weren't really as bad as I thought they were. Maria was on the phone with a conservative representative of the Overlander government who was trying to trivialise the issue and was 'wiping the floor with him'. The outpouring of support for the tragedy was almost universally sympathetic from within the United Federation with spontaneous candlelight vigils. In fact, it became clear that the far more humans approved of us than hated us.

I was worried of course about being in the presence of humans besides the few who I had directly interacted and worked with, but that didn't stop me from recovering the bodies of the two victims. Outside of the human staff who worked directly with me, most tended to assume that I was celibate rather than actively trying to start a family. I don't want humans to know about my relationships since while 80% of them were good, decent folk, or at least indifferent, that still left more than enough who weren't. The sentries involved in the shooting were confined to their bunks (as we had requested for and the Overlander Military Police were quick to acquiescence to).

"Where are they?" I asked. I didn't yell, I didn't growl and though I was about half their height and level with their seated positions; neither of them would look me in the eye.

Eventually, one of them pointed to a tree with a crude two-by-four nailed to it, upon which hung the grotesque, decomposing bodies of my people.

"Help me take them down," I said to my Military Police escorts who pushed them forward with their rifles and within ten minutes I was kneeling over their bodies, trying to identify them.

I don't know everyone in Knothole. Probably about a half to a third of our swollen number, and at the time that was still at our incomplete census figures at about a thousand. As it so happened, I could identify both of them.

"Do you know her name?" I asked the sentries until one of them flicked his head up and gave a slight shake. "Her name was Tangle, Tangle the Lemur. She didn't have any family here but that didn't mean she wasn't popular. She was the life of the party with her card tricks."

"This one was Whisper, Whisper the Wolf. She wasn't as outgoing as Tangle, but they were good friends nonetheless. She thought she had lost her mother years ago and it was a week ago when they found each other in Knothole." I explained.

I leaned down close to them, more than aware that I had won the moral high ground, more than aware that it was dearly bought and more than aware that intimidating the Overlanders did little but soothe my rising temper, but I loved the way they cowered and simpered before me.

"Now, I have to go back home and tell her mother that even though the Great War ended decades ago, and even though we had signed a treaty of friendship and co-operation with their leaders and that we are even now at peace with you humans, that two of them have decided that their daughter was unworthy to live. I shall have to go and inform her that whatever nightmares she may have thought she left behind have indeed come to pass." I said to them in as much of a restrained as I could muster.

"We don't want your pity you animal-" Spoke one of the humans.

"No, human, no, you've made your position very clear." I hissed back as I went to leave with the bodies of the two victims.

To the protest of the Military Policemen and my Mobian escorts, I carried Whisper all the way back to the car while a couple of the others carried Tangle. I finalised the draft Maria had prepared and delivered it in full that night. I don't remember exactly what I said and it wasn't really important anyway. The main takeaway was that response was overwhelming, universally positive and I was nominated for some sort of humanitarian award. I don't really care much for those. All that mattered to me was that a door had been opened to the United Federation

I spoke at their combined funeral. I held Whisper's mother while she wept and wailed and expressed wordlessly her frustrations at how thoroughly Mobians had been subject to the injustices of the world: oppression, enslavement and cruelty to which we could not defend against. Or maybe that is what I imposed on her grief. That is how I felt. That's how I feel now.

I don't have a whole lot of time to dwell upon that. There was so much to do for all of us.

Rotor all but retreated into the laboratory while I was once again thrust into the glamorous life of modifying the patchwork of battle plans inherited from my predecessor. Being mostly limited to my office, I didn't see Rotor all that much, but the few times I did he always had a look of giddy excitement on his face; even when things didn't go exactly as planned. I was pleased to see him working with such vigour, but I found myself wondering how it would affect his health.

Interference from overeager executives certainly didn't help. Luckily, Elias, while eager for results, was smart enough to not make uninformed suggestions. Rotor didn't have a confirmed date but claimed it would be sometime within the next month

That date came sooner than I thought.

As one long day came to an end, I was preparing to head home when Rotor entered, giddy and looking about. "Is anyone else around?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Why?"

"Perfect. Follow me." He said excitedly as he motioned for me to follow him.

I didn't know what was going on, but I had the sense during the car ride that something big awaited me aboard the Alicia. As it turned out, I was right. The apparently completed device stood about as tall as three Mobians, five as wide and its gleaming silvery surface was crammed with blinking diodes, flashing buttons and tubes.

"The first prototype," Rotor announced proudly. "It's got its own self-contained power supply as well. Completely self-sufficient and capable of being deployed anywhere."

I walked up, awestruck. Just a year before, the dream of creating a De-roboticizer and freeing all of Mobius was just a dream. And now, here we were on the percipience of making history.

It was time to begin live trials; in a way, this was the scariest part of the whole process, for if the procedure failed all his hard work would be for nought.

Indeed, Rotor told me that the risk of failure was what kept him awake at night.

Bunnie was wheeled aboard the Alicia, where she seemed a pitiful sight

"Hello Bunnie," an elderly lynx said. "I am one of your friend's colleagues. My name is Doctor Ellidy. I trust Rotor has explained the proposal to you?"

"Not really," Bunnie whispered. She was tired and so very weary, not just in body, but in his voice and spirit. "Only that you might be able to help me."

"We can Bunnie," We are about to commence clinical trials on a new markedly improved deroboticizer and we're on the lookout for someone to test it. Would you be interested in being the first?"

As Dr Ellidy's words sank in, Bunnie got the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

Arrangements were made. Forms were created, signed, then duplicated and triplicated. Bunnie underwent a full medical check-up and then counselling to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting into.

"Ready?" Rotor asked.

"Ready as ah shall ever be" she confirmed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Rotor said, "Once before, this prototype deroboticizer has played host to one great miracle of science when its freed Sir Charles the Hedgehog. Today will mark the second and perhaps the most glorious of all." I sat amid the crowd both physically and mentally, but I was focused on staying calm. I wanted the surgery to start before any delays came up. I simply couldn't bear the thought of anything going wrong in the last few minutes.

As the final rays of the sun began to set, Bunnie was rolled into the lab's operating room. Normally, owing to the sensitive nature of the procedure and its limited size, non-essential personnel wouldn't be allowed inside, but Rotor insisted I come along. The surgical room was shaped like a pit, with observers looking down on an operating table. I took my seat, as did Elias, his chief of staff, and all the other medical personnel. Rotor went into the operating pit and dressed in surgical scrubs.

"Good evening, everyone. Tonight's operation is the first of its kind, for we will be performing the first trial run of the new and vastly improved deroboticizer on a valued member of the community. If everything goes well, she'll be the first Mobian to be freed from the effects of the roboticizer." He washed his hands.

"Okay then, let's get started."

Bunnie was wheeled in. She was breathing deeply and she was nervous, yet excited. As she stepped into the deroboticizer, she was assisted by orderlies. The sun had almost set; tonight would decide if the dream of every free-living Mobian would continue, or come crashing to a halt. I hoped for her sake that it would be the were no cheers from the audience, but the air was charged with a certain tentative optimism for the miracle-in-making. Everything seemed to have gone well, but anything could go awry.

The device hummed and flashed with Bunnie inside, much like its monstrous cousin, and the clear plexiglass within fogged up.E veryone held their collective breaths and the door of the machine opened to reveal Bunnie sitting in her wheelchair. Her legs and arm were noticeably less mechanical.

Drowsily, Bunnie tried to rise from her chair and stand, but she collapsed, her legs weak and unable to support herself "Ah... ah can't feel my legs?" She said with an insincere and laughing tone.

Rotor chuckled. "Glad to see your sense of humour is still intact." Taking a thick blanket from one of his assistants, he wrapped it around her as he helped her stand up. When all was said and done, and Rotor promptly declared the procedure a success.

Bunnie gazed at her genuine limbs and I could say with certainty that the ten seconds afterwards were the longest of her life. Everyone held their breath as Bunnie looked at her new hand and her legs with near total disbelief. She hesitated for a moment and then tried to move them.

"Butter mah butt and call me a biscuit,", she gasped in astonishment as her efforts were rewarded with fleshy fingers and toes wriggling.

At once, everyone in the room - myself included - abandoned their professional demeanour and erupted into cheers. The roar of the audience was so deafening that one could have mistaken us all for die-hard fans of a sports team watching our favourite player finally make a goal after so many long years of a deadening slump.

For the next few days, Bunnie was the center of attention. She was given regular doses of steroids and vitamins to ensure that her new muscles would develop properly, and no expense was spared in giving her the best physiotherapy available as she worked on building up the strength in her limbs. Doctor Quack checked in on her every two days, taking a multitude of tests to measure Bunnie`s progress and delighting at the results. As he explained, Bunnie was stable and it wouldn't be long before she could be discharged.

Rotor checked and double checked. Each time fear gripped him that the procedure would revert and it would be back to square one as it had previously. I saw that stress weighing on him and I kept reassuring him that even if things didn't work out, he could take what had been learned and reapply it to his next effort. It didn't do much to cheer him up, and for once I can't blame him.

He was chasing his life's dream; anyone would be stressed out at that.

Rotor's fears soon proved unfounded, for Bunnie was running through the obstacle course, jumping and clearing hurdles with ease, her limbs acting better than anyone had dared hope and that excitement doubled when Bunnie proclaimed that the legs were better than her old ones ever had been.

* * *

At the end of another long workday, Rotor plonked down a thick stack of papers and notes for me to go through. He barely managed even that, being so exhausted he could barely stand on his feet.

"Long day?" I asked.

Rotor nodded. "You don't know the half of it." He replied as he collapsed into a chair. "Success is great, except when it overwhelms you."

It was as if a light bulb had been lit in my head. Sensing my chance, I asked "Then I guess that leaves out doing the rest of the body on an actual Robian. If you came up with that, you'd have no free time at all.

Rotor chuckled nervously "I could count on exhaustion taking a decade off my life."

I chuckled. "So, did you think about actually doing it?"

"Doing what?" Rotor asked.

"Performing a de-roboticization on a Robian," I replied.

"Good god, no." he gasped as he took a gulp of his soda before he backtracked. "What I mean to say is that it took me six years to get to arms and legs and I don't want to think about how long it would take to get to-" he gestured to his own body as a metaphorical example "- all that."

"But is it possible?" I inquired.

He eyed me. "You're awfully curious." He replied.

"Can you blame me?" I asked, backing down. "Just look at how successful the procedure turned out. It seems like de-roboticizing a Robian would be a logical next step."

"Actually, no" Rotor said. "the next steps are all about standardising the procedure and working out the post operating recovery care, but the latter is outside my expertise. The rest, we can work out once we actually win and have all the time in the world to work upon a solution."

"But it`s possible, right?" I asked again.

"Well, I went over the leftover data and what literature there was on the original roboticizer to see if it was feasible … and … I don't want to get your hopes up … I think it might be." Rotor replied.

I pretended to be surprised at his answer, and it took most of my willpower not to pump my fist into the air and cheer. I had done my part and planted the seed of an idea.

All I could do now was to wait to see if it would grow.


	21. Intervention

**Intervention**

"You think you can write a proposal for the de-roboticizer project, Sally?" Rotor asked.

I pulled one from my drawer.

"You're already done?"

"Well, I had a moment of free time and we'll need one of us as a Robian to find a way aboard the Death Egg; with tightened security at the factories it's not going to be Sir Charles," noting Rotor's disquiet; I continued. "Now, this plan certainly carries its own risks but the potential to save lives is too great to ignore. That is precisely why I need to make sure getting roboticized isn't a one-way trip especially to Elias."

"So, who's going to be the lucky volunteer?" Rotor inquired.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I hurriedly replied.

Rotor stared suspiciously, looked the proposal over and nodded "Well, only a few things I'd change, but this is actually pretty good."

"See if you can schedule a get-together with Elias. Might as well work to get the ball rolling."

Scribbling a few suggestions onto the proposal, Rotor left me to my work, and I was quickly making the necessary amendments on my project. It seemed destiny was on my side that day, for in between the myriad of issues that were clamouring for Elias's attention, the appointment for our meeting date was set within a few days' time.

At least, that's what I thought. When I headed over to finalise a few details with Rotor I found the entire area surrounding the Alicia cordoned off by military police.

"Excuse me," I asked the nearest officer, "what's going on here?"

"Princess, please go back. It's not safe for you here. There was an attempted break-in last night. A group of Mobians tried to get into the labs. We think they were after that recovered roboticizer."

"Were they auto-automatons? I couldn't stop myself from demanding "Did they get in?!"

"We don't know princess, they fled like jackrabbits before security got a good look in."

Relieved, I suddenly remembered that Rotor was almost certainly aboard when the intruders were snooping about. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Thankfully not."

"Can I go in?"

The officer shook his head. "Sorry, orders from up above; nobody's allowed in until we've finished our investigation."

"You have any idea how long that'll take?"

"No idea, princess."

In the heat of the moment, I was just relieved that the roboticizer hadn't been vandalised or worse yet; stolen. But then I began to wonder what the thieves had been thinking. It made no sense, they were practically begging to be caught. Besides, even if the burglars had gotten away, the roboticizer would be of absolutely no use to them. It made no sense. Why would they be that crazy?

Then, an epiphany struck me. Perhaps, I realized with a chill, someone shared my dream.

When I returned the next day, I was greeted by two military policemen in the loading ramp. They glared at me as I presented my identification. Satisfied that I was who I said I was, they let me through. I had to pass past several other pairs of guards before reaching Rotor's lab. No sooner had I stepped out than two more guards came up and demanded to see my identification. If the two at the gates were rays of sunshine, the next two were worse. They reminded me of the stoic soldierly types who never smiled

I showed my papers, and they let me go.

It was a relief to finally head inside Rotor's office and lock the door. No sooner had I done so than there was loud pounding on the other side. Not wanting to show my papers again, I ignored it.

"Sally? You in there?"

At the sound of Rotor's voice, I quickly let him in. But I wasn't ready for how red his face was "Glad someone managed to squeeze in past security to get in here."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Gosh, Sally, these guards are a nightmare! Security has always been tight here but now they're swarming all over my lab like rats!"

"Hate to be a killjoy, but what if they were just making sure nothing was taken?"

"They were, but you should have seen them do it! They were shoving everything aside, not caring if it was fragile or not! And they shoved me out when I tried to stop them! Shoved me!" Rotor's face contorted "When I complained to them, they said that his orders came down from Elias. They can do whatever they want, and I can't do a thing to stop them!"

"Did he say how long they were going to be here?"

Rotor buried his face in his hands. "They said it's a permanent arrangement. The higher-ups are so freaked out about the break-in that they've gone paranoid overnight."

"We'll find a way to make it work," I said. "Elias can't stay paranoid forever. Eventually he'll snap out of it, and things will die down."

"I hope so. Because if this has to go on for much longer, I might lose my-"

There was a loud knock at the door and almost immediately the door knob began to rattle.

"Not now!" Rotor protested.

A key was inserted into the lock, and the door swung open.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?!" Rotor barked. "This is a private conversation! What makes you think you can just barge in here?"

A Mobian stepped into the room, and in a heartbeat I knew he was the leader of our new security force. Not just from his flashy tactical uniform but also from his high strung posture

"Security, Rotor" Geoffrey said, "New rule from the top: No doors are to be locked"

"That's insane!" Rotor protested. "This is a private conversation. You can't get away with this! I'm going up to Elias right now, and-"

"They're no longer any private conversations any longer. Consider everything you do when aboard this command centre a matter of state secrecy."

"You're a rent-a-cop Geoffrey. Just about everything you have came out of a badge. If you didn't have that then you would be nothing more than a no-good hoodlum with nothing to contribute to society. I think that's why Hershey up and left. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see that the prince hears about this on your job appraisal."

Geoffrey never one to be upstaged struggled to muster together a response only for Rotor to leave the room, bumping into him and almost knocking him down. He started to curse, but Rotor was gone before he could do anything.

"What are you doing here Geoffrey?"

"Just helping to protect the most valuable medical tech in all of Mobius that's all. How's that for rising through the ranks?" He said, recovering "And just what are you doing here?"

"I'm just gathering input for the big attack that's all. Making sure I've covered all the angles. What about you? I know things have been so hectic around here but did you ever get a chance to find out what happened to your parents?"

Geoffrey's grin faded.

"Look, I'm sorry about that but I'll need to get going."

* * *

Rotor's pleas were passionate and fiery, all but yelling that Elias was overreacting and that the draconian security measures were only going to tear morale to pieces. In the end, Rotor couldn't reverse the measures already in place but he did get a consolation prize: Geoffrey was warned that if he and his team continued to cause morale problems among the staff, their rations would be cut in half and to everyone's relief, it worked. The guards, previously smug and secure, were forced to be polite and unobtrusive as they went about their daily rounds and gradually their presence faded into the background as though they had always been.

Better still was the day I got a memo announcing that Rotor along with the rest of the scientific team were to be honoured for their efforts. I didn't expect was for him to come into my office and tell me that he was allowed to invite one guest to the ceremony: me. Surprised (and a little flustered), I accepted.

As we arrived to the private event, Rotor was swarmed by his fellow Freedom Fighters and he seemed just as surprised as I was at the overwhelming reception. It took us almost ten minutes to make our way through the crowds and inside, where we took our assigned seats. I didn't mind, though. It left me with plenty of time to think about how I was going to ask the big question.

Despite the fancy lights and the prestige of sitting among the brightest minds Mobius had to offer, I found the whole event to be pretty boring. The most interesting event of the occasion was when Snively took the opportunity to shake hands with me and to offer his thanks but most of my time was spent trying to force my eyelids open as one award after another was handed out for various categories. I had no interest in.

Only when the winner of the grand prize was about to be announced did my curiosity pique

I watched Rotor clutching the armrests of his chair, not daring to imagine that his dream of being officially honoured by royalty would be coming true. When Rotor's name was finally announced, he almost fell out of his seat, and was practically in tears as he staggered to the stage, too overcome with joy to speak.

It was a moment he will treasure until his dying day.

A concert was put on for the attendees and It came a surprise when I felt Rotor's hand touch mine. I looked over, only to see him intently watching the performers ahead. Had he touched my hand by accident? It didn't look like it, not by the way he had angled it. I wasn't sure what to do. But I figured that it was best to just go along for a simple gesture like that. So, as we both watched the musicians play, I let his hand remain where it was.

After a while, I touched it back as well.

Rotor and I sat there for a long time, listening to the music. I could have asked him there and then, but decided not to. It wouldn't be appropriate to interrupt his night of bliss. This was his moment to shine, and I let it remain that way, enjoying the music. When Rotor and I finally headed out, we had a lovely view of the village, surrounded by the golden glow of lit glass.

"Very pretty," I said.

"The award, or the village?"

"Oh, uh... both."

Rotor held his award out. "Wanna hold it?"

"No, that's okay," I said.

He practically shoved the award in my face. "I insist. This is as much yours as it is mine."

Unwilling to argue, I took the award and looked it over. "I don't follow you."

"Just look at all this!" Rotor beamed widely "Here we are, recipients of the highest honour science can give. I may have done the research, headed the scientific team and built the prototype. But it was you who made all this possible."

"So," he said blushing a little "I know I say this a lot but thank you Sally."

I blushed. I had heard him compliment me many times, but this time I didn't try to correct him. He stepped closer to me. "I want to make this up to you, Sally. Tell me what your heart desires, and I'll do everything in my power to make it come true."

I was caught off guard, but delighted. This was my opportunity, and I would be an idiot to turn it down. "Well... there is something..."

"Yes?"

I almost told him, but something stopped me. A gut feeling that this wasn't something to be spoken aloud in public. "Actually, could we do it somewhere private?" His eyebrows arched up in surprise "I just don't feel comfortable talking about in public."

Rotor thought for a moment. "Follow me."

I followed suit, only momentarily slowed by a few Freedom Fighters giving a few last minute congratulations for the two of us. It was almost midnight by the time we got back to his workshop which he then locked, lighting a fire to dispel the cold. When it was nice and toasty, we sat on the bar-style stools with tall glasses of soda.

"So," Rotor asked, "What's on your mind?"

With no reason to hesitate I dove right in. "Well, you're the most qualified to pull it off, especially after all we've been through and I wouldn't dream of asking anyone else for this most delicate of requests and-" Intrigued, Rotor listened closely. I took a deep breath. "Rotor... I'd like you to-"

"Hold on a second," Rotor said. "This doesn't have anything to do with sex, does it?"

I stopped. "What?"

"Are you... you know... asking me to do something–"

I shook my head. "No, no, no! Nothing like that!"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I was afraid you were going to ask me to do something… well, out of the ordinary." He smiled. "Well, then, what is it?"

I took another deep breath. No turning back now.

"Rotor... I'd like you to turn me into a Robian."

For almost a minute, Rotor sat on the couch, so caught by surprise that he had no idea to react, much less process what I said. "You... what?"

"I went through the projections. We'll need the situation on the ground to be serious enough for Robotnik to lift off on his Death Egg. That means was need someone who is capable of making the decisions at the ground level and stage a large enough distraction to even the odds. Otherwise, Robotnik will just stay put in his fortress and wear us down through a battle of attrition. Trust me, it's the only way" I said, keeping my tone humble and respectful.

Rotor chuckled nervously. "Sally, I... wow... you're serious?"

I nodded.

"But... well, what you're asking is... it's never been done before." He protested. But I was adamant.

Long before our talk, I knew that no matter what I said or how I said it, Rotor would still be caught off guard by my request. Thus, I decided that going the emotional route was my best course of action to avoid getting mired down in the technical details.

"Rotor, I mean this in the best possible way, but you don't know what it's like to be an outcast among your own kind, like I am."

"Actually, yes, I do. I was the only one in my entire walrus tribe who was interested in science, remember?"

"But you were among others like you," I said. "When I began my team, I was the only one of us willing and able to take up the leadership role. Now, is it too much to ask that I be able to stand alongside my friends on the ground and to play a pivotal role in using Robotnik's own hijacked machines in minimising our casualties?"

"This... this is something I need to think about for a while," Rotor said after a long silence. "Perhaps we should talk about it tomorrow. Would noon at the creek work for you?"

I nodded. And, without wanting to sour the moment, I thanked him for a wonderful night, and asked if he needed anything before I left. When he said no, I bid Rotor a good evening, and retired home to be with Tails. Was I excited? Yes. Was I frightened about what the following day would bring?

Absolutely

* * *

When noon rolled around on the next day, I made my way through the bubbling brook, feeling oddly calm. Rotor was already sitting there when I arrived, tossing bread crumbs to the birds. His expression was neutral as he shifted to make room for me. I sat beside him, looking out to the trees beyond.

"So," I said, "did you think about what I said?"

Rotor nodded.

"And?"

He sighed. "To tell the truth, Sally, there's no logical reason to say no what you want. Your plan has a realistic chance of success and the reasons you're laying forth as to being the perfect candidate makes sense. But emotionally... well, that's harder. This just doesn't feel right. I was up all night thinking about what you asked, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this isn't a good idea."

"Why?"

Rotor tossed more crumbs. "To be honest, I don't know. Maybe because it's never been done before. We'd be heading into uncharted waters, and, for all we know steering into a rogue wave."

"But we'll never know unless we try."

He nodded. "But tell me, Sally: if I made you into a Robian, what will you do then?"

"Assuming, the neuro-override functions as planned?" I said, giddy at the thought. "I would still be your leader and lead the Freedom Fighters against Robotnik."

"But what are you going to do after we win?"

"Well, I haven't thought of it too much. But maybe I'll write a book: My Life as a Teenaged Robot. Whatever I want really, I know I used to do relationship advice under 'Ally'. I might have a future doing journalism."

Rotor wasn't amused at my joke. "Is that what you really want to do for the rest of your life? Write books and articles? If you were given such a great gift, you'd be wasting it if all you did was sit behind a desk."

I flinched. "No. I mean. I'd find something else meaningful to do like raising a family while you work on the deroboticizer. I always do."

"You can't always count on the past to predict the future."

A Flickie flitted down near my hand, hoping I would have some food for it.

"Besides, it's not so easy. You're going to wind-up causing quite a ruckus."

"I'll deal with it," I said. "If that's what it'll take to win then I'll do it. Besides, you could say that fate has it out for me. It brought me out of Robotropolis and handed us the roboticizer Maybe this is what providence has led me to."

Rotor tossed the last of his breadcrumbs onto the ground, was silent for a long while.

"You really want to do this." he said at last.

I nodded. "More then anything."

He closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the sky. I got the impression he was trying to figure out the best way to say something uncomfortable. "Every professional and rational instinct I have says to walk away from this. But… I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. If this is what you truly want… then I'll do it."

I almost leapt into the air. I wanted to dance and cavort in ecstasy. But I managed to contain myself, not wanting to cause a scene and make a fool of myself. Instead, I gave Rotor the biggest grin I ever had.

He was going to make my dream come true.

* * *

Thanks to the necessary tech being fully researched and developed, I didn't have to wait for technology to catch up with my dream. And finally, there were no legal situations to keep the surgery from proceeding. A free-willed Robian like Sir Charles was still considered a legal personage. Nonetheless, Rotor still insisted that we talk the situation over with those in charge, mostly to ensure that there would be no misunderstandings, a suggestion which I wholeheartedly concurred.

When the day of our meeting with Elias arrived I found myself with an few unexpected moments with Rotor. "Any last-minute advice for me?" I asked

Rotor thought for a moment before he answered "Well, my folks back home disapproved of my tinkering. I think that like them the people in there are going to be afraid. They're going to be afraid that now that we are going to have a future without Robotnik. And as some of them might tell you, change isn't always good."

I groaned.

Rotor put his hand on my shoulders. "Don't stress out so much, Sally. You can do this."

I couldn't avoid stressing myself out over what was happening, but I nodded in agreement. At that moment, I was just relieved that Rotor was there, and, more importantly, that he was securely on my side. After coming this far, I wasn't going to let a gaggle of bureaucrats stop me.

Rotor was the first to speak, telling everyone present that he had a war winning proposal. Elias and his council of war leaned forward in their seats; eager to listen to their star scientist hash out the outlines of the proposal.

They weren't expecting this.

Sensing that my speaking talent was needed, I stepped forward. Rotor explained that I was the one who volunteered, accepting all the risks.

"Her?" Colonel Somersby said in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"But I am," I said. "At the beginning of the American Civil War both sides thought war was about taking or holding cities and ports and rivers and mountain passes. They thought it was a chess game. By the end of the war they'd figured out that they weren't playing chess. Cities didn't matter much. Ports and rivers and mountain passes, while useful, were secondary to the real game. The real game was destruction. Lincoln had figured it out earlier than most and his generals; Ulysses S. Grant, William Tecumseh Sherman made it happen. They burned enemy homes and farms. They burned crops in the field. They starved the enemy. They realized that warfare was no longer about chivalry and honour, but about killing the enemy."

"Armand D'Coolette summed it up best. 'War is simple. Find the enemy; kill the enemy. Kill so many of them that those formations left in the field disintegrate entirely.'"

"Now," I continued "Either Robotnik will prevail, or we will. Before, we Freedom Fighters have tried to fight the war reactively. We tried to fight with at least some vestige of decency. And maybe that might had been okay when we were still waiting for the cavalry to show up. But now, I'm going to give the people under my care new orders. Orders I had never given before: Kill the enemy. Kill the Robians. Kill any collaborators that stand in our way. Dress it up however you want, that's what war is about. If there's glory in there somewhere, I must have missed it."

"Here, we have a chance to avoid a good portion of this. If one of us can infiltrate Robotropolis and manually deliver a computer virus to infect the portion of Robotnik's army that he has placed under lockdown we can make use of the distraction afforded to us by the robots and make our own entrance easier."

My speech had left the assembled crowd speechless and sensing that Colonel Somersby would be my biggest dissenter I turned to face him. Perhaps we can try this," I offered. "Bunnie is the precedent correct?" I looked to Elias. When he nodded, I returned my gaze back to Elias. "We actually had this idea a few years back. While untested in the field we're reasonably certain that the neuro-override will enable someone to retain free will and with a functioning deroboticizer in the works it won't be a permanent arrangement."

Taking their silence as a sign that everything was proceeding according to plan I motioned for Rotor to continue the presentation.

"I'll have Rotor going over the details, complete with a projected model of what I would look like post-roboticization." Somersby leaned forward intrigued. But there's always that voice that goes against the crowd, and it came from Elias as he raised his hand to interrupt.

"A moment of privacy with my sister, please," Elias urged.

Once everyone had filed out of the room, Elias approached me. "Sis, I can't imagine what life was like for you out here. Certainly, the technology exists to do this and NICOLE's after action reports on your tactical acumen suggests you have the technical ability to pull this off. But what you're suggesting goes against a great deal of what we stand for. There will be doubt and outrage. It could cost all of us a great deal, both personally and professionally. Do you understand?"

What happened next was a bit of a blur but I'm reasonably sure it went like this.

Elias - "Are you alright?"

Me - " I would like to inform you that while I'm emotionally in a bad state I need no help from you and am going to be okay."

Elias - "Have you even gotten any sleep?"

Me - "I got five hours last night and most nights I get by on three. If it is of any consolation, once I become a Robian I will neither require sleep nor sustenance. Once I'm given some time to adjust to my new state of being I'm certain I'll be alright as mentioned."

Elias - "I feel that you're too close to all this. Take a breather will you? A day? No wait, make that a week off. That's an order."

Me - "Are you even listening to me?"

Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I admit I screamed at him. I might have thrown some things, then stormed out. I may also have punched the door on the way out (which would explain my bruised knuckles) before I was escorted back home. What I do remember clearly is that I certainly didn't make a good exit, and I know I failed utterly to convince them that I was okay.

* * *

As the afternoon went on, I grappled with my thoughts, a multitude of which tried to grapple for my attention and left me in a mass of uncertainty, fear, and confusion.

Give in. That treacherous voice in my head said. Give in to Elias

I had spent hours walking around the track, trying to decide what to do. Accept a suspension of duties? I thought about it, but eventually I made my decision.

There were risks. That I could not deny. But I was so close I would not give it up.

Bunnie showed up at my doorstep late in the evening in an attempt to talk me out of it. "Ah didn't say anything about giving up. But Sally Girl, you need to stop this crazy plan of yours." She urged.

I knew she wouldn't like my answer, but I still gave it. "I'm going for it"

Bunnie's face sagged, and for a moment I thought she was actually going to cry. But she pulled herself together "Bunnie, I know you're worried, but this is my choice. I'm not going to give up on this, not just yet. Not when we're so close to winning.

"Sally Girl, ya don't understand-"

"No, you don't understand!" I snapped. "These plans are everything to me! You're talking about destroying my dream!"

"To save your life! If ya do it, you'll die!"

"I'm willing to take that chance."

"But ah'm not! Ah can't let you throw away your life like this!"

"It's my choice, not yours. And isn't that what we're fighting for; freedom? Well, this is my choice."

Bunnie hesitated.

"Well?"

I wasn't sure how Bunnie was going to react. She didn't raise a fuss, throw a temper-tantrum. Instead, she remained quiet. Looking out the window, I watched as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Normally I would be up for dinner, but I wasn't hungry. I was tired and wanted to rest,

"Maybe the best thing we can do is get a good night's sleep, and have clearer heads in the morning," I said.

Bunnie gave an emotionless nod.

Going into the medicine cabinet, I gulped down a few pain pills and went to my bed and settled down. Turning out the lights, I closed my eyes and when I eventually nodded-off. Sleep was deep and restful, and I would have dozed well past the rising of the sun if something hadn't woken me in the middle of the night.

* * *

I don't know what cause me to stir. Perhaps a sixth sense warning me that something was nearby. Blinking, I looked around, the darkness momentarily disorienting me. I thought I was back beneath the stuffing tunnels of Robotropolis; trapped. But then I saw NICOLE lit up by the bedside. My breathing slowed; nothing could harm me in Knothole.

Still, the numerous shadows gave an intruder plenty of places to hide. I studied the room, looking for movement and listening for breathing or clothing brushing against furniture. I detected neither, and decided that it had just been Tails going to the bathroom.

Laying my head back upon the pillow, I closed my eyes.

That's when I heard footsteps.

They were coming into the room

There were whispers. I couldn't make out what was being said, except that it was a few Mobians who sounded cautious, probably trying not to wake me

They got closer. Another few seconds, and they'd reach me.

I never gave them the chance, leaping from the bed, my every muscle exploding in sudden movement. And for a second it caught my stalkers off guard, but they recovered quickly, for I heard a familiar twang say, "Now!" and I was tackled to the floor.

By the time I had fully come to my senses the last leather strap had been tightened and I found myself facing Bunnie and a bunch of burly orderlies, completely unable to so much as lift a limb in response.

"Sally Girl, Tails is safely in muh place so he doesn't have to see nuthin." Bunnie took a step forward "You're probably wondering why we strapped you down like we did. Truth is we didn't know how you'd react, if you would be logical, or violent. Ah jus didn't know, and erred on the side of caution. Please believe me, if there had been any other way to avoid it, any at all, ah would've taken it. Ah would've given anything, anything to make this easier for you."

I remained silent.

Bunnie paused, tried to find the words, sweating all the while. "The reason ah volunteered to do this is because... yer my friend and for a very long time mah only real one; actually. You stuck by me when no one else would after ah came out of that roboticizer looking like a ... freak."

She took a step closer to me. The orderlies, one of who had a muzzle in one hand flinched, but she indicated for them to remain where they were.

"Sally Girl... ah put up with a lot. But ever since you've got that idea that you're responsible for every one of us. Ah watched you agonize over it. Ah was so worried about you, especially when it seemed like things jus wasn't working out. Ah'd hoped you'd realize it too, but ya didn't. And then there's your family. They came to me and asked whether the war was affecting you personality-wise. I told them yes, it was."

I remained silent.

"And then all this happened. Ah've heard this happening before. People becoming so obsessed that they forget about all the important thangs."

She stopped, wiping sweat away.

"Yes, ah supported them in suspending you from your duties; but only to save your life. The Sally Girl ah know is kind and polite, doesn't attack others. She certainly wouldn't hurt herself and doesn't risk her life over such trivial things. But maybe ... maybe you're right. Maybe, yer would rather die than be taken out of the fight, but ah... ah couldn't let that happen. Not after all this."

She took another step closer to me and the orderlies tensed up.

"Ever since we met, you've encouraged me on. Yer were the one who helped me whenever bad things came. Now ah wanna help you. Ah know you don't believe me, but it's true. Ah've tried to find a good time to tell you, but ah never got the chance. But now... well, now seems as good a time as any."

She reached out and took my hand in hers. The orderlies took a step forward. She stopped, bit her lip, and waited for me to say something.

I didn't.

Bunnie sweated. She started to shake. "Please, Sally Girl, say something."

I didn't.

"Please... ah know you probably don't trust me. And our friendship if it still exists ... might not be the same again. But at least you'll be alive. We can work our way through this. Please."

I remained silent as Bunnie satisfied that I wasn't in a violent mood started to undo my straps and as soon as the last was removed she sat at my beside me.

"You destroyed it," I whispered.

"What?"

"You destroyed my dream," I said.

"Ah don't want to destroy anyone's dream," Bunnie blurted out.

"Liar." I got out of the bed, shaking so badly I had to grab the bedpost to steady myself. "You rotten, stinking, little liar."

The orderlies tensed, ready to tackle me.

My heart was racing. "All those years, all that effort, wasted by a pathetic two-bit hick who bailed at the first sign of difficulty. I don't know what I ever saw in you in the first place."

Bunnie took a step back. "What?"

"Wake up Bunnie!" I snapped. "Do you really think I helped you out of the generosity of my heart? That I cared about your stupid dreams of marrying a gallant guardsman or becoming a hairdresser?"

Bunnie went pale.

"I told you what you wanted to hear and you fell for them, hook line and sinker!" I couldn't stop, the words coming out faster and faster.

Bunnie was silent. So too, were the orderlies, who couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"All that time... all that kindness... yer friendship..." she whispered. "It was all... a lie?"

I turned away.

"Tell me that's not true," Bunnie said, her voice shaking. "Please, tell me it's not true!"

I remained silent.

"Tell me!" Bunnie begged, tears falling to the floor. "Tell me! Please, tell me!"

"I... I don't know," I finally said. "I don't know."

"Ya don't know if you're telling the truth or not?!"

I spun. "I said I don't know!" I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. "Maybe you did act to save my life. Fine. It's done. But I'm not giving up. I'm going to fight this decision and then-"

Bunnie wiped away her tears, "You can't."

"What? You're going to stop me?"

She shook her head. "As ah wus saying, while you were out, Elias asked us if your behaviour had changed and ..."

"So, I've had worse. I'll take a breather; reassess my position and-"

She sniffed. "No, ya don't geddit. Its already been done. They suspended you from your duties."

My heart froze. "You... You don't know that!"

She sniffed again. "They agreed."

The colour drained from my face.

"Ah'm sorry, but ah couldn't let you keep living like this. Ah... ah had to protect you from yourself. It was simply for your own good."

Something snapped inside me.

Wiping the last of her tears away, Bunnie said, "Now, we can work this out-"

"Get out." I whispered

"Sally Girl, we're both mad, but we-"

"Get out."

She took my hand. "Please, we can-"

"GET OUT!" I screamed.

Bunnie was so caught off guard that she fell to the floor. So did the orderlies. But their shock was nothing compared to Bunnie's, who stared at me in terror. Never had Sally raised her voice against her, or screamed with the unfettered fury of a soul who's only purpose in life had been taken away. In that moment, seeing the hatred in my eyes, she realized that everything I had said earlier was the truth.

Bunnie scrambled backwards. She only got out one anguished sob before running from the room. The orderlies, shocked, went with her.

Then I went ahead to vent my frustration against every inanimate object in the room till at last it lay in tatters. The table, sofa, and chairs demolished and holes embedded in the walls. I spun, looking for something else I could destroy, something precious and beautiful that I could tear apart. But there was nothing left.

For a long moment I stood there, running on nothing but adrenaline, which then seeped away, leaving me drained and feeling more empty than I had ever felt, and more alone than I had ever been. I collapsed to the ground, sobbing, wishing that everything would just go away.


	22. Consequences

**Consequences**

I was laid up on the floor of my hut, sobbing at what I thought was a dead dream. I didn't even have the will to get up. What was the point? After all that happened, was I just supposed to stroll through the village with a smile on my face? Screw Elias. Screw everything. I just wanted to lie in bed and never leave.

But fate wouldn't let me off the hook so easily.

It took me a few moments to realize that I hadn't been roused from my melancholic stupor by NICOLE which had apparently let me sleep in but from the sounds of a mass commotion outside. I tried to ignore it, gave up, and looked outside the windows.

There was a crowd gathered around outside: a mix of curious onlookers and what looked like reporters. I made the mistake of meeting the gaze of the first one, who shouted out, "There she is!"

They swarmed towards my window and I yanked the curtains back into place as the photographers snapped photos and asked questions, demanding to know the details of my meeting with Elias and why I was forcibly escorted out. I would have ignored them, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. Grabbing a trashcan, I threw the window open and chucked garbage onto the closest busybodies, slamming the window shut as they yelled in surprise and disgust.

That surge of anger had jolted my system, and I figured the best thing to do was to pull myself out of my funk and come up with a plan of action, something to get me going. I took a sheet of paper and a pen, scribbled down ideas on where I could go from there... or rather, I tried to because I couldn't get a single idea. Nothing came to mind, as if my mind was refusing to work with me.

The shouting from outside died down. But they didn't get the hint and pounded away at the door. I yanked the door open and was greeted by a blast of flashing light bulbs.

"Sally, why are our orders coming straight down from Elias. Is something going-"

"Feck off!" I shouted, slamming the door.

Anyone who entered my hut would've found me looking less like the stoic leader of the Freedom Fighters and more like a deranged hobo.

When noon came, there was the knock at the door, and something slid underneath it. I found it was a copy of the day's newsletter, along with a large envelope. Ignoring the envelope, I took the paper and read it over, dreading what I might find.

Sure enough, the headline was about how Elias had decided to temporarily take command of the Freedom Fighters after I had apparently suffered a nervous breakdown. It even came complete with a report about the heroic reporters who had risked their lives to get a statement from me, only to be viciously attacked (a statement corroborated by an image of me throwing tomatoes and yelling at reporters from the inside of my hut).

Rumours were flying that I had gone psychotic from prolonged contact with humans or that the pressure of my position caused me to snap and lose my mind, or possibly both. Unable to get a response from me, the press had turned to Elias.

The report included several questions from those in attendance; someone had asked if Snively had returned to his old ways and Elias immediately said no. But when asked about Rotor who I had been seen working closely with, Elias had said he was currently on leave due to personal issues and refused to elaborate any further.

There was more to the article, but I didn't want to read anymore. Things were spiralling out of my control, and I needed to focus, not obsess over what the world thought of me.

I had just tossed the newsletter into the trash and my eyes fell upon the envelope. A quick glance revealed the royal seal on it. I swallowed. My stomach sank as I tore it open and took out a single sheet of paper. A page-long official document was never a good sign.

I was right.

 _Dear Princess Sally Alicia Acorn,_

 _This letter is to inform you that you are hereby called before a review to assess your medical suitability for your present appointment and guardianship over Miles "Tails" Prower and the altercation with Bunnie D'Coolette._

 _Should you not appear at the scheduled date and time, we will consider your temporary suspension from duties permanent and your legal guardianship terminated with the aforementioned minor being placed with other suitable foster parents. Be informed that further legal action may be undertaken to ensure your compliance._

The date of the meeting was set for two days later.

Just enough time to let my mind run rampant about what Elias was going to do. Whoever had written that letter had made the term, 'legal action' intentionally as vague as possible. They wanted me to squirm so that I'd be a nervous, whimpering wreck when the date came, ready to accept whatever bitter terms they had in mind.

It was as if the whole world had gone crazy.

But what plunged me into a full-on depression was knowing that it was all my fault. I had been the one to push Rotor with my radical agendas; I had set everything in motion. Worse still was the epiphany that I couldn't fix it. I couldn't talk my way out of this situation.

No matter how many long counselling sessions I attended, or how many times I apologised to Sally's friends and smiled at their attempts to cheer me up. I knew nothing would get better. My involvement in the war was over.

I dropped the letter and ran to the bathroom, where I threw up.

I was at my lowest point and I needed help. There was only one place I could go. It was the last place I wanted to call, especially after all that happened, but I didn't have anyone else to turn to. I took up the walkie-talkie Tails and I had set-up.

The line crackled to life.

"Hello?"

I closed my eyes. "Tails?"

Tails were silent for a moment. "Aunt Sally?"

"Tails, is Bunnie there?"

"No, she's out." There was a pause. "But Uncle Antoine is here and he's listening in."

"Tails... You've been reading the paper, haven't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then you know what's happened."

A pause. "Yes."

"Tails... I... I need your help."

"Aunt Bunnie told me to stay here until things calm down. Come over and -"

"No Tails, I said. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. You need to recover from whatever happened-"

"Tails, they're going to take you away from me," I said, almost choking on the words. "I got a letter. They are saying that if I can't take care of myself. I can't take care of you."

"Aunt Sally, what are you talking about? You haven't done anything wrong."

I could just visualize Tails and Antoine looking at each other the horror and of what I had done. I couldn't bear to have them learn about it like everybody else. If I was going to enlist their help, I needed to tell them everything.

I took a deep breath. "Do you remember the incident at the mess hall?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with this?"

I gathered all the courage I had. "Tails…Antoine… That was me. I think I did it deliberately."

There was no reply.

"I love you but I think I hurt you because I selfishly thought it would get you out of the fight." I stopped for a moment, trying to slow my pounding heart, wiped away the sweat pouring down my face. "I... I wanted you both to find out from me. But now I need your help. Please."

There was silence on the other end.

"Tails?"

"Aunt Sally... Antoine wants to speak to you."

The phone was passed. "Princez?"

"Antoine?"

"Princez, listen very carefully. If you want to make things right, there's only one thing you can do."

"What?"

"You have to come clean. We can vouch for you that you're still a very good person."

"What? No, I can't do that! My reputation would go to pieces!"

"Zee truth is going to come out. It's not a question of if, but when. We all have to face our mistakes, no matter how painful it is. Now yes, it will hurt. But later on, you can start your life all over again."

"No!" I said. "I'll find another way! I'll-"

"Princez," Antoine said. "What I do is for your own good. If you don't accept responsibility and turn yourself in, I'll tell the prince. You may hate me, but so be it. Are you understanding?"

I cut the conversation off and threw myself in bed. My call to the people who could help me had only made things worse. I felt like a condemned inmate watching the clock, knowing that his final judgment was fast approaching and that there was nothing he could do about it.

I backed against the wall, clutched myself as tightly as I could, trying not to have an emotional breakdown.

I had lost everything.

I didn't know what to do.

* * *

NICOLE made a quip on the arrival of another storm over Knothole.

It had been gathering strength over the past few days and had made landfall in the direction of the village. I ignored the notification, too focused on my own misery to care. I felt empty, like I would never feel happiness ever again.

But as I thought about how the rain would sweep aside all the dirt and grime of the village and how it wouldn't make a lick of difference to my present situation; a switch had been flicked in my mind.

At once, all my worries were washed away and I came to realise what was truly important.

The whole world was against me; fine. I could live with that. Sally's friends and family were doing what they believed to be right. They all thought I was the problem. But they were wrong. They were the problem. They were all weak-willed whelps who didn't have the vision I did. My visions had changed their world, and they were all frightened. They were all trying to destroy me.

I smiled; let them try.

The more I thought about it, the funnier it seemed. They had all done me a favour and didn't even realize it. In taking everything away, my enemies had made me realize what truly mattered... my dream; a Mobius free from Robotnik. All my fears and worries were washed away. In an instant, everything made sense. There would be no more running and only one path ahead, one that Sally would ordinarily feel nothing but utter revulsion for; but recent events made it easy to follow.

In all their folly, all those who celebrated my downfall had forgotten one important thing: No one fights harder than someone who has nothing to lose.

Selecting my equipment was easy, I obtained a tactical body vest complete with plenty of pockets. At first, I wasn't planning on carrying any weapons. But the more I thought about it, I realized it would be idiotic to not have a way to defend myself besides the lethal set of ring-blades. Thus, I decided to go with smoke grenades. Because such weapons were more likely to arouse suspicion, I had to resort to obtaining small canisters and building my own from a home chemistry set.

With my smoke grenades and tactical gear, I was set. All I needed was the right time to set things in motion. Fate smiled upon me, for as I tinkered with the last of my smoke grenades one night, NICOLE meteorological data heralded the imminent arrival of the storm. It was almost as if the storm was the answer to an unspoken prayer and I was all too happy to seize it.

As NICOLE had predicted, the formerly pale blue sky turned dark like a blanket. Howling winds had driven Mobians indoors long before the rain arrived, leaving the streets abandoned. At any other time, Sally would have valued this as an opportunity to take a well-earned break. But for me, it was the night when I would finally get what I was justly owed.

After eating a quick dinner, I laid out my gear on the bed, double and triple-checking to make sure everything was in order. My ring-blades were functioning, my tactical bodysuit hugged my frame perfectly and NICOLE was tucked firmly into my boot pouch.

When I had finished going over my gear, I found that I still had a few hours to go in order to fully benefit from the cover of the storm. With nothing else to occupy me, I mentally reviewed my plan: I would sneak aboard the _Alicia t_ o initiate the procedure. NICOLE would disable any electronic security measures. I had my ring-blades, smoke bombs and the rain to cover my escape route.

It was a simple plan. Nothing complicated or fancy. Yet, as I kept reviewing it, I noticed that my legs were shaking. I chalked it up to nervousness, and who could blame me? Storming aboard a heavily defended aircraft is bound to get on anyone's nerves. But I realized that it wasn't just nervousness that hung over me like a spectre. It was like a premonition that something painful and unpleasant was coming.

Sally knew that stealing was wrong, no matter the motivation. In any other situation, I tell myself that I wasn't a thief and I was merely bending the rules to retrieve what was rightfully mine. Still, this logic didn't really sit right with me.

At last, the hour arrived. I put on a raincoat, left the hut, and went through the heavy rain. The minutes ticked away as I looked out the rain-soaked path ahead of me, trying to slow my frantic heart.

The howling wind and rain had driven virtually every sensible minded Mobian indoors. With the streets deserted, I made my way on foot to the airstrip. When I arrived, my raincoat was discarded and I took the opportunity to test out my movement. I took a deep breath, feeling the vest move with me like a second skin. Having made sure all my equipment was in place, I slipped across the rain-swept air, reassuring myself that everything was going to be fine.

Through the rumble of thunder, I made my way to the secure storage depot which set just across from a parked Echidna-built fighter. This was the riskiest part of my plan, where even a small screw-up could have disastrous consequences. Before me stood the first of my obstacles: two of Elias' men.

"Can we help you?" one of the guards asked, amused at my presence.

"I'm here for my property."

"Sorry, don't know what you're talking about"

"The roboticizer. It's my property and you have no right to keep it from me."

The guards looked at each other and chuckled. "Alright sister, if you say so."

I tried to keep my blood from boiling over as the guards passed through the tent flap and into the secure strong room. Going to a list mounted near the door, I searched for the most recent additions of rare and valuable goods. I found it at the top, listing one crate as containing the roboticizer. Going to the crate with the corresponding number, I pulled it from the shelf, set it down, and opened it.

There nestled among thick padding was the device itself.

Smiling, I tenderly lifted the familiar device and slid it into my boot pouch

"Whoa, sister," the guard said. "Where do you think you're taking that? That's not yours."

"No," I said. "It's mine."

"This says otherwise." The guard pulled out a tablet and began to read in the clinical tone of an emotionless lawyer. "Article six, subsection ten of the treaty: Any material found by the Freedom Fighters of use to the war effort is automatically the property of the army. Now, put it back your highness."

It would have been so satisfying to beat the guard into unconsciousness, but I didn't want to hurt anyone. Instead, I activated my charm.

"There has clearly been a clerical error in the system. The roboticizer was acquired prior to the signing date and I loaned it out to Rotor ergo, it is still my property. Impede my attempts to retrieve my property and I shall take this matter to Elias himself, is that understood?"

The first guard went pale, the grin vanishing from his face.

"Now, is this my property?"

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Oh, and because of your deference to my regal authority, I have decided to be magnanimous and to forget this little indiscretion."

I left the tent.

Outside, I took a moment to congratulate myself. I had one treasure in my possession and only needed one more. I glanced back to grin at the guards, wanting to rub my moral victory in their faces. But they weren't looking at me. They were speaking into some walkie-talkies. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess what was going to happen next. Alarms would be sounded, and guards dispatched to intercept.

I needed to move fast.

I boarded the loading ramp of the _Alicia_ and was immediately accosted by two of Geoffrey's security officers. "Your meeting isn't due for several hours. May we escort you to the waiting room, princess?" one of them asked. They were tense and undoubtedly warned to keep an eye out for me.

"I had an errand to run for Rotor. He has asked me to gather some things on his behalf."

"May I know where you're heading?"

"I'm here for the neuro-override," I said. "Rotor and I have decided to do further investigation on his private time to see whether it could be used to grant our people immunity against the roboticizer."

The guard balked "We have orders not to let anyone into the labs."

I focused all the frustration I had to the guards. "I see. But if you don't let me pass this moment, I will personally tell Rotor which two incompetents delayed his research, and thus, who was responsible for his inability to develop an improved deroboticizer capable of saving every single robian trapped in Robotnik's clutches."

Without a word, the guards backed away and unlocked the door to the labs.

Hurrying through the door, I went through another airlock and entered the secure storage unit. A cold blast of freezer-air hit and doing my best to ignore it. I found the prototype neuro-override complete with thick slabs of ice to keep the device cold and sterile.

There was only one thing left to do.

I had just started back towards the door when it opened. I thought the guards had come in to escort me out, but it wasn't the guards who had entered.

It was Elias, flanked by two surviving secret service members.

"Sally? What are you doing?"

I had hoped to avoid confrontation but it seemed fate had other plans "Just taking what's rightfully mine, brother. I hope you understand."

Elias shook his head "Please, don't make me do something we'll both regret."

"It's a bit late for that," I said. "Besides, why do you care? I got that letter you sent me, but it was just a formality, wasn't it?"

"You're sick, Sally." Elias took another step towards me. "You're obsessed and you need help. If you stop right now, I promise I'll help you any way I can."

I took a step back and shifted into a combative stance "Are you only saying that because you want your precious roboticizer back?"

"Sally please, you'll still have a great future ahead. We'll need people like you for the rebuilding effort ahead. But if you keep this up, you'll be throwing it all away."

I took a step back. "That future won't exist, not unless I do this."

"No, it will. I can-" Elias' eyes shot to my back "Wait!"

A crate fell to my side. I spun and saw one of Elias' guards only a few feet away. In a flash, I realized that while Elias had been talking, his guards had shifted into my blind spots.

"Liar!"

The first guard swung a stun baton at me. Instinctively, I ducked; the first swing went over my head, striking the second in the chest. A swift kick to the gut ensured he stayed down. The guard wavered, too close to his liege to attempt another swing with his weapon, instead he adjusted his stance, trying to bludgeon me into unconsciousness with the back of his weapon.

"Don't hurt her!" Elias shouted.

He needn't have bothered. As the guard came down, I smashed my knee into his gut and knocked him into the bulkhead where he let lose a loud groan, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as I did so. Elias made a grab for the roboticizer. He was fast. But I was faster, I yanked my foot back before his fingers could close around the device. I was so enraged that I reared back to kick him... and yet, I didn't. Or rather, I couldn't.

Fuming, I took off, leaving Elias on the floor.

In retrospect, I was making so many mistakes it wasn't even funny. I should have been a lot more cautious about the upgraded security measures that NICOLE's struggled to bypass. As I blindly charged ahead, convinced that I was so clever in overcoming all obstacles in my path, a thunderous wail sounded. Guards had undoubtedly been alerted and I had seconds before more serious firepower arrived but it was too late for regrets.

Adrenaline gave me extra strength as I made a headlong dash to the labs.

At least, that's what I thought, for it turned out that the royal shuttle had failsafe systems meant to seal-off sections of the craft from one another. I was trapped.

A guard called out from behind me. "There's no escape! Give yourself up, and you won't be harmed!"

Desperation, often come through in times of need. That desperation let me spot an ajar meeting room which led into a still open corridor. Its security door held open with NICOLE's intervention. All I had to do was prevent my pursuers from following me. I plucked out a grenade from my belt. Having never tested them before, I was about to find out if they even worked.

Plucking the pin, I tossed the grenade and heard a loud shriek.

There was the noise of glass breaking, the fragile chambers within the containing individually inert chemicals shattered, mixing the contents with the reagent in the central chamber, causing a violent chemical reaction. An enormous cloud of smoke quickly erupted from the canister. Elated that my homemade grenade had worked, I dashed out into the open hallway and shoved a desk in the hallway path, sending a hurricane of papers fluttering all over.

I ran for everything I was worth.

But the grenade, while potent, hadn't been enough to stop the guard, and he ran after me. Grabbing another grenade, I threw it ahead and ran into the resulting smoke, making a sharp turn into an adjacent corridor, waited five seconds, and then took off down hoping to find the entrance to the lab. The former royal shuttle came equipped with several, but it's one thing to map routes from the confines of my room and quite another to find the correct pathway to the labs in a smoke-filled corridor while being chased by guards.

I was still trying to figure out where to go when I was tackled.

The guard reached for a stun stick, and in a panic, I shoved him as hard as I could. He was thrown backwards and smashed hard into one of the shelves. He tried to stand, but his wobbling legs failed to support him and crashed onto the floor. The impact had stunned the guard so much that he didn't notice the shelf loaded with medical supplies was toppling over. In seconds, he'd be crushed underneath several hundred pounds of solid wood.

I could have left him there... but I couldn't leave the guard there to be crushed. He wasn't evil. He was just someone trying to do his job.

No dream, no matter how tempting, is worth a life.

I yanked the guard clear as the shelf crashed to the ground, the wood fracturing on impact. Leaving the guard behind, I ran.

"Attention all security personnel," Elias' voice emerged from nearby speakers. "We've had a break-in; Princess Sally has stolen an item of great importance from the secure storage room." He hesitated, and when he spoke again it was with a certain weariness I hadn't heard before. "Use whatever force is necessary to apprehend her."

The cat was out of the bag. In a way, it was a relief. No need to sneak around, lie, or talk my way past guards. There was just me and my goal, now so close I could feel it.

Turning another corner, I reached the central corridor which led down the spine of the aircraft. But security was fast, and I heard doors being thrown open behind me and guards barking to each other. I went faster. One or two guards I could handle, but not several at once.

Two guards burst through ahead, aiming tasers as they spotted me. That didn't deter me. The thing about having nothing to lose is that you're more willing to take risks. I barrelled into them, using my momentum to knock them off their feet. Not having the time to knock them out, I instead kicked their tasers down the corridor and took off again.

More guards charged through the narrow corridors as I reached my turn-off point. Luckily, NICOLE was remotely operating the various security doors to delay my pursuers. Heart pounding, I dashed into the operating theatre, yanked the doors shut, and slashed the control panel with the ring blades.

* * *

There it was: the automated surgery unit. I couldn't make heads or tails of the knobs, levers, buttons and the mechanical arms that jutted forth. To the undiscerning eye, it was something squat and hideous, but to me it was beautiful.

"NICOLE," I instructed. "Initiate quarantine procedures."

" **Lockdown procedures initiated,** " NICOLE replied from by boot pouch.

At once, a loud klaxon wailed as protocols meant to safely isolate an unknown pathogen went into effect. Heavy doors slammed down across the exits, observation windows and air vents. Five inches of steel and airtight plexiglass separated me from the idiots trying to deny my destiny.

Going to the list of surgical procedures, I quickly found what I was looking for: the roboticizing program. I smiled. Much to my surprise, Rotor had apparently already expected the green light for the program and had already created a program in anticipation.

I was going to be its first test subject.

I was sweating and my hands trembled as I entered in the commands to install the neuro-override first, and to execute the roboticizing program. I punched in the code for local anaesthesia (general was out of the question) and selected the option for maximum-strength bio-med gel. As I loaded in the Neuro-Override and the mobile roboticizer on the machine's designated chambers, I could feel my heart slamming against my ribs.

This was it. This is what it all came down to. All I had to endure was five minutes of surgery.

" **Warning, breach detected."**

The first set of reinforced security doors was blown open and Elias ran inside, only to find his path blocked by the second set of reinforced doors. I could barely hear him shout, but whether it was to me or to the guards, I didn't know.

I didn't care.

The guards were still attacking the doors as I pressed the start button and got onto the table, settling into the designated grooves. Cuffs came out of the table and closed around my limbs, securing me in place. I gulped and closed my eyes as a needle came down and injected the anaesthesia.

I breathe deeply. So giddy with excitement.

That's when I first noticed the pain.

Confused, I wondered how the anaesthesia could wear off so fast. Twisting my head as much as the restraints would allow, I looked to the transparent panelling above that allowed me to see the various chemicals sealed within the machine. The bottle that contained anaesthesia caught my eye and in what may have been the most horrifying moment of my life - the dispenser was empty.

It's been said that when you're about to die, your life flashes before you. Good and bad alike are shown, and nothing is hidden. Like so many others, I dismissed it as little more than a literary device for books and movies. Now, however, I'm not so sure as needles descend toward my forehead and I realize that I probably won't survive this.

Fear makes me tremble, but the restraints around my limbs hold me in place as the mechanical arm descends, the needles glinting in the glare of lights above the table. I try to be brave in the face of pain and to keep panic from taking control. But it's so very hard, I instinctively buck, but the cuffs are too strong to break. I can't even move my head, for the braces screwed into it keep me completely immobile. It has to, lest the machine makes a mistake and cause irreparable damage.

I struggle, but I can't break free. I can't run away. I can't call for help. I can't do anything but watch as the needles get closer, closer, ever closer.

Then they hit.

The thick needles go through skin, muscle, and bone. I bite down as the plungers come down with a soft hiss, a cocktail of chemicals being pumped into me. With no pain receptors, my brain can't feel the pain, but I do feel Biomed gel sloshing just under my skull, moving, spreading…

…Growing.

The needles are yanked free, and I sweat. The pain is nothing compared to the fear. The needles were nothing.

What's coming is even worse.

The mechanical arm moves away, and, in its place, a new arm comes down. At the tip is a small circular saw. It starts to spin, sounding like the drill of a demented dentist, only louder.

It's coming for me.

I sweat. I shake. I try to hold back the fear… and I fail.

Oh, please, not that! I don't want this!

Raw animalistic panic takes over. Rational thought and logic are replaced with animal instinct, and my body thrashes, adrenaline giving my limbs and muscles strength. The screws on the cuffs creak as every muscle in my body reaches its limit, then goes past it as I fight to get away… but that's not enough. The cuffs are too strong!

The drill descends. I try to twist my head, but the clamps hold me in place. For all its strength, it can't force me to watch. I squeeze my eyes shut.. But all the darkness in the world can't protect me as the drill hits my head and begins to cut, taking its time.

 _Oh, it hurts! It hurts!_

I scream.

Things go dark. Sounds fade away. The pain dims. I still feel blood pouring down my face, but it's fading away, all of it.

I've learned that the stories were true; you do see your life flashing before you as you die.

It's so clear to me now: I thought I could do it. I thought I could actually. But what had I actually received in return. Nothing but pain and suffering. Even if I survived I'll have to face the legal ramifications of my actions. I'll come out a broken person, abandoned by all. I'll live the rest of my life knowing that I came so close to achieving my dream only to have it robbed from me.

My entire purpose, my only reason for living, will have been for nothing.

Death is preferable to this.

Wait... Wait, this isn't... This isn't right. It can't end like this. It can't.

I blink. I'm back in the land of the living. I'm soaked with my own blood and the pain is terrible beyond anything I've ever endured, but I don't care, even as the drill continues to cut into me.

"Come on!" I yell at the machine. "Come on!"

The drill finally cuts through and retracts, leaving a hole in my skull. Above, a mechanical arm descends, the neuro override held within its grasp. That beautiful device is pressed through the hole and onto my goop-covered brain. Sensors scan the and determine there's a gap must be filled. Biomed gel is poured on and a small nozzle fires off a concentrated blast of heat to harden it. It feels like my head is on fire, and I roar in defiance.

"Do it!" I scream.

The bio-medical gel hardens, and more gets spread on top to create a smooth, seamless bond between device and skull; that too, is hardened.

"DO IT!"

One final jolt of pain slams through my skull, and I scream.

Something

Everything goes silent.

The drill retracts, as do the needles and the arms. Motors whir, and I'm brought in full view behind the door. Even Elias has stopped, barely able to believe what he's seeing. The screws upon my head loosen, and the headset retracts. The cuffs around my body release themselves.

" **Neuro override installation successful** ," NICOLE announced.

I'm so tired. I don't want to get up. I want to sleep.

From the corner of a blurry vision, the roboticizer comes into view.

" **Roboticization in progress."**

* * *

It isn't painful. Roboticization, I mean.

It started as an itch in the limbs and feeling very bottom heavy. I feel organs shift and buckle which didn't hurt even though it should be excruciatingly painful. It was a little similar I suppose to the dentist who gives Novocaine so the drill doesn't really hurt.

The transformation reached my neck and I blacked out.

When I came to, I saw myself in the plexiglass reflection. Two glowing blue photoreceptors come into view. I reach out and a mechanical arm comes into view, I managed to look just as exhausted as I feel. I shouldn't even be standing after what's happened

...and I see myself in my reflection.

I giggle.

I start to laugh.

I did it... I actually did it.

I'm a Robian.

I laugh, and all the mental fatigue vanishes. The restraints release me and I felt a heavy thump as my metal foot ground on metal.

It worked! It worked! All I want to do is dance and sing and jump and shout for joy, and show the world what I've accomplished. You know what? I will! A whole world waits for me outside; the only question is, how do I get out of here?

The last few movements made had been involuntary. I had to relearn how to move all over again. I willed my hand to come to my face. It's so much harder than I imagined, as my mind struggled to cope with the strain of moving each servo in conjunction with the rest. I smiled, delirious from pure joy as I willed my digits to move into place. It's not much, but it's a start.

I will my hand into a fist and ignite my ring-blades and hammer away at the side of the aircraft. With my added strength, the ring-blades make short work of the aircraft's thin frame and eventually it gives way. Even with the rainfall, a large crowd has gathered below; apparently, word of what was really happening must have spread. They look and recognize me, unable to believe what they're seeing.

Looking back at the guards and Elias, I grin and wave. I no longer feel animosity towards any of them. How could I after what's happened? I stand up and totter on my new limbs, and give the biggest smile of my life before my stupefied audience. But as gratifying as it is to pose for them, I had way more important tasks on hand.

I stretch out my new legs experimentally and once I was satisfied they were as sturdy as they looked I took a running sprint, leap through the hole and dropped to the ground.


	23. Deficiencies

**Deficiencies**

I started running before I even hit the ground. No shots were ringing about behind me, but I didn't care, I just kept running, my mechanical legs now pressing onwards faster than I had ever run before, and soon I was neck deep into the dark woods, but even then, I didn't stop. I ran till at long last the wailing alarms and shouts had resolved themselves into pounding raindrops amid the rain-soaked boughs.

I sighed and looked around. I was in the clear.

That was, however, until I noticed Sonic keeping pace, following shortly behind was Amy, whose dress had been ripped in places by the thick undergrowth "Sal, we need to talk." Sonic shouted to me as planted the heels of his sneakers into the ground and skidded to a halt.

"About what?" I growled, my robotic body subconsciously gearing up for combat.

"Somethings definitely different about you," he mused, scratching his chin. "Your hair, you've changed it haven't you?" He quipped sarcastically.

"Not the time for one of your jokes; Sonic," I replied, my stance easing a little, but only a little.

"My gosh, Sal. It's still you in there. I mean you blink. That's how I know since the other bots don't do that. But uncle and you do. So, I know you're scared and all! But you have to stop!" In an instant, Sonic darted around me and blocked my path, arms spread to intercept.

I stopped my stance now in near full gear, ready for anything the blue hedgehog might attempt.

"This is all just a big misunderstanding. We'll clear your name, I promise." Sonic assured me, this should have surprised me, him talking instead of fighting, but deep down I knew that was who he was.

"Just where were you when the brains were handed out?! I'm not naive enough to think that'll work and you should know that. Out of the way, Sonic." I hissed at him, if I wasn't a machine, I would have sprayed spittle in my rage.

"Don't worry Sally, we know it isn't really you saying that." Amy blurted when she finally caught up. She was huffing and puffing and was adjusting her ruined rain-soaked dress even as she tried to catch her breath.

"And as for you Amy," I said, turning to face the pink hedgehog. "You just want me out of the way to have Sonic all to yourself, don't you?" I hissed accusingly.

"Hey!" Amy's face contorted in rage as she took a step back "Just how petty do you think I am?!"

"Very," I growled.

"Don't let it get in your head. It's just a robot Amy, remember that." Amy mumbled to herself as she flicked her wrists and materialised a piko piko hammer, catching it in her hands. "Come quietly so I don't have to use this, Robot. If you can read Sally's memories, you'll know that fighting me is going to end very badly." She growled at me as she readied her hammer.

"So, howzat, your outnumbered robot," Sonic said, rolling up his imaginary sleeves. "Betcha that processor of yours knows the odds ain't great. Especially since Sal probably knows I won't go easy on a bot even if it's wearing her face and I think that's what Sal would want too."

It didn't matter what I said now. They wouldn't believe a word that came out of my mouth...unless. The only way I'm going to be able to escape is most likely through trickery. So, I immediately fell to the floor and started convulsing and speaking in gibberish like those fake televangelists.

"S...Sonic! H…he…help m…me! Argh bleh! Garrrgh!" I gibbered, my vocoder mimicking the sounds of a seizure perfectly.

"Sal! You're doing it! W...what do you need? I'll get you free!" Sonic gasped.

I lacked any complex ideas and just needed to get Sonic away.

"Rotor's discombulator! Grah! Sonic screwdriver! Raghhh! Hurry, can't hold it off for much longer!" I screamed in false agony as I continued to writhe on the ground.

"Keep an eye on her Amy, I'll be back!" Sonic ordered the pink hedgehog as he bolted off, completely buying the act.

"Hey wait up Sonic, I think-" Amy yelled breaking her gaze from me.

 _Now's my chance!_

That distraction was all I needed to spring to my feet and hurl a smoke grenade at Amy. As the fragile canister broke, a solid cloud of white smoke billowed forth and engulfed Amy. She swung wildly, but I had already bolted beyond the reach of her hammer and began ploughing through thickets and brambles. I heard Amy calling for Sonic as I left her behind.

I was just about to celebrate getting away when to my complete disbelief a red and black hedgehog seemed to emerge before me with a solid crackle of light and a strong hint of ozone that my sensors immediately picked up

"Chaos Control!" the hedgehog shouted as the air about him crackled and a solid spear made of what seemed like hard-light formed in his hands.

I ducked, just in time to watch a solid shimmering rod of pure chaos energy embedded itself into the soggy mud-soak ground ahead of me and erupt into a super-heated cloud of dirt and steam.

Maybe one in a hundred thousand Mobians are born with the ability to manipulate chaos to perform supernatural feats and of those, fewer than one percent had powers that qualified them for the top bracket. The Mobian before me seemed to be one of them. Still, I had never heard of one being able to shoot solid bolts of raw chaos energy or casually violate several laws of physics like this.

I decide to call him 'Red' and I think he'll forgive me if I didn't get his name while I was trying not to die.

As I stared dumbfounded at my new foe, he decided to make the first move. There was no pomp or as he 'skipped' through the air in a series of short hops, his fist extended in an attempt to knock me over.

Rolling to the side, I barely avoided his first attack pass.

Spinning round, I faced my opponent who came to an abrupt stop before marching steadily towards me. It was clear he would exchange no words, only pain. He barely even flinched when I lobbed the last of my home-made smoke grenades. The hedgehog merely caught the device mid-air, so delicately that its fragile innards failed to rupture and tossed it harmlessly into the woods.

I blinked and the next thing that my sensors registered was that he had me by the arms. So tightly, that I couldn't even bring my ring blades to bear even if I wanted to. I struggled against my assailant jerking myself one way then the next to get loose. But 'Red' merely tightened his grip, manhandling me like a toddler.

"Hey, you, who are you!" I heard Amy shout and abruptly the air about me shimmered and I found myself alone with Red in another part of the forest.

Clearly, he didn't want anyone interfering with his kill.

"Aaaaargh!" I grunted as he squeezed my arms harder.

I'm not actually sure whether I feel pain or whether I'm just remembering what it's supposed to feel like. Either way, the sound of my joints straining and those red flags popping up on my Heads-Up Display are real enough.

Okay, I had to be smart about this. I could put in more force than any normal Mobian could because it didn't matter if I damaged myself. I yanked back and pushed my entire body weight down. The phantom pain soon became nearly unbearable but I powered through, knowing my mind was lying to me on just how much force I could apply.

 _Don't think like a normal person. You need the force that lets mothers lift cars off babies and children drag their parents out of burning buildings. Put more in. You have more._

I pushed harder.

'Red's' eyes bugged out in surprise as I shift his arms inch by inch. My feet scraped on the ground as he recovered from his shock and he promptly began channelling chaos energy into his arms. That left me with an opening.

Kunk!

Something inside my foot cracked but 'Red' remained standing. Just what was this monster? A kick in the nards ought to have put anyone down. His only response was a pained wheeze and flinging me through the air as though I were a mere drink can.

I landed with a loud crash amid some brambles.

(FIGURED YOU NEEDED SOME HELP) I froze. Okay, I had definitely heard NICOLE say that, only . . . there hadn't been any sound. I mean, I heard NICOLE's voice, but I didn't really hear it.

A digital hologram of a vaguely familiar looking lynx in a simple plaid dress seemed to materialize into being on my HUD. I blinked, trying to clear my vision. "You're not real," I muttered when my attempts to rid myself of the ghostly image proved to be in vain.

(I'M OFFENDED YOU THINK I'M A HALLUCINATION AFTER ALL WE'VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER) the holo-lynx grumbled, looking rather offended.

"Enough with that snarky attitude. Can you help?"

(CONSIDERING THAT BOTH YOU AND I WILL LIKELY BE LOBOTIMISED IF WE'RE CAUGHT I WOULD OF COURSE HELP. HOPEFULLY, THIS WORKS...STANDBY) NICOLE mentioned sarcastically and seemed to hover in mid-air in a lotus position, eyes closed.

'Red' marched closer as I staggered to my feet.

I blinked once again as I found myself with the dizzying sensation of seeing 'Red' simultaneously face-to-face and through a cracked red-hued lens from somewhere amid the tall grass.

"What's going on?" I mumbled aloud.

(I USED SNIVELY'S BACKDOOR ACCESS CODES ON THIS TOTALLED SWATBOT. YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO REMOTE PILOT IT. TRY AND MAKE THE SHOTS COUNT.)

"What's going on is that I'm going to pay for that," the hedgehog mumbled.

I concentrated on the damaged SWATbot and found myself looking through its cracked visor from where it lay almost flush with the ground.

The hedgehog marched obliviously into its/my view. Diagnostics readouts suggested was most likely one of Sonic's victims as its legs were missing. Luckily, I didn't need them, just it's fully functional arm cannon which I manoeuvred into place as though it were an extension of my own limbs.

"Any last words, robot?" he asked drawing back his fist for a roundhouse punch.

Tseeew! Tseeew!

At that range, powered or not the hedgehog stood no chance of avoiding the pair of stun-bolts. My sensors picked up the scent of sizzling flesh and my assailant staggered clutching his side before dropping on one knee.

My second video feed died as the SWATbot's battery ran flat.

I knew that the hedgehog would recover soon and I couldn't risk any more encounters like this Luckily, someone owed me a favour and now was as good a time as any to cash it in. I made for Knothole and started climbing a tree whose branches overhung the surrounding fence.

The tree creaked under my additional weight but otherwise held steady and I had just about made it to the overhang when without warning the tree trunk beneath me erupted into a shower of wood splinters. With a full third of the tree vaporised, the once sturdy oak crashed onto the fence, depositing me unceremoniously on the other side along with a sizeable pile of foliage.

(THAT DIDN'T SLOW HIM DOWN AT ALL!) NICOLE exclaimed.

"I need to shake him off. Can't let him follow us into the village like this."

(ALRIGHT, GET ME OUT. WE CAN USE THE PROJECTOR TO DISTRACT HIM FOR A BIT.) I slid NICOLE from my boot pouch which had morphed into a permeant slot in my foot in the course of the roboticization. (KEEP HEADING FOR THE VILLAGE. I WON'T HAVE THE BATTERY TO KEEP THIS UP FOR VERY LONG.)

NICOLE's projector lit up as I ran and the air about me shimmered as NICOLE generated four separate images of myself, fuzzy and indistinct, sending them in four separate directions. Hopefully, with the rain and some distance, my assailant would be fooled.

Kruk!

A solid shimmering bolt of chaos energy struck the most distant image before exploding in a superheated cloud of steam. I ran behind it for cover and NICOLE dispelled the remaining illusions.

The air about me shimmered once more. (HOPEFULLY, HE THINKS THAT HIT DID US IN. I'M PROJECTING AN IMAGE OF OUR SURROUNDINGS. IF HE LOOKS CLOSELY, HE MIGHT SEE A SHIMMER. KEEP MOVING, I CAN'T KEEP FOR LONG), NICOLE gasped, the strain visible on her holographic projection.

Behind me, I heard a loud thump as my opponent landed on the ground, undoubtedly inspecting his 'kill'. I kept running ahead toward the familiar collection of huts and makeshift shelters that was Knothole and eventually reached the outermost huts.

(THINK WE'RE IN THE CLEAR NOW.) NICOLE gasped, her 'voice' strangely faint.

"Stay with me NICOLE, we're almost there," I mumbled as I came to a stop before a clothesline which still had a soggy cloak which had been left out in the rain. I hesitated for a moment before wrapping the cloak about myself, realising that stealing someone's laundry was probably the least of my concerns.

(NEED TO REST FOR A BIT SALLY. I THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THINGS FOR A WHILE) NICOLE mumbled, a nightcap popped onto the exhausted holo-lynx before she curled up and vanished from my vision. The physical NICOLE in my hands went into power-saving mode, its screen going dim.

"NICOLE!" I cried aloud before I crashed onto my knees outside a familiar door.

We all need to let our emotions out at times. I had been so helpless... I can't even think of it now without a flash of fear. At that time, it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming again. A low keening whine erupted from my vocoder as I cradled NICOLE and it was many minutes before I had my whimpers under control and I managed my emotions back to something resembling composure.

A barely visible light came on inside the hut "Sally...are you out there? I heard you crying."

"I ... I really need your help," I mumbled.

I heard footsteps which stopped at the threshold of the door "Alright, keep calm. I've got the first aid kit I mean just in case you're hurt."

"Uh, I don't think I'll be needing that anymore," I replied.

"Oh, you're not hurt. That's good to hear. Come on in, you must be positively drenched. You're always welcome at our home but what brings you over at this hour?"

I sighed "What you're going to see is going to alarm you. But-."

The door opened and there stood Lupe looking half-asleep and dressed in a nightgown.

Her eyes went wide.


	24. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

**Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?**

Did I win? Were the events of my escape a hard-fought victory or a near escape from disaster? I would like to say that it was the former, my enemies gave it their best, and found that it wasn't enough. I am unbreakable. By the measure of my enemies, I was the clear victor. By my own measure, however, the incident was a catastrophe. Not in my personal failure in peacefully pushing my idea across. Elias had been playing me this whole time. I didn't fail there. What I did fail it was getting so swept up in seeing my vision come to life that I had alienated my former allies. That meant I had to secure new ones.

Lupe started. I stared.

The two of us stayed like that for several minutes. At the very least, she wasn't screaming her head off which was a good thing. Taking this to be a good sign, I rose slowly to my feet with NICOLE held in one hand and spread my arms out in a peaceful gesture. Lupe sniffed the air about me.

Though the rain had rinsed off everything as thoroughly as it could, I could still sense a dried patch of what had been blood. The faint metallic stench clung to my head and down my neck and shoulders. I wondered if Lupe knew what it was. I took a step forward and Lupe stopped sniffing, tensing up.

"I assure you that in spite of how I look I'm still in full control of my faculties," I began but Lupe interrupted.

"It's not safe out, come on in, we can talk inside," she said stepping aside, her blue eyes never once leaving me.

In a bit of a daze, I staggered toward the hut, only to return to my senses when I saw Lobo fully roused and appraising my new metallic form from head to toe. "We leave our weapons at the table when we wish to talk," he mentioned.

Not wanting to argue with the chieftain of the Wolf Pack Nation, I slid off my ring blades leaving it in the coffee table before settling down on the couch in the middle of the room. "Are you okay?" he asked sincerely.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding hollow. "Things got... difficult."

"Sally?" Lupe whispered.

"Yes, Lupe?"

"Do you really think everything will be all right?"

I didn't answer for several minutes as I staggered my way to the bathroom sink and scrubbed the hardened trickle of roboticized blood off under the running tap.

"I don't know," I whispered as I shut the tap off and turned to face Lupe, "I don't know" I repeated.

"But you tried right? You did what you thought you had to," Lupe asked the ceiling light, behind and above her head, casting her face in shadow.

"I don't know, " I whispered hoarsely staring up at the dark ceiling. "Yes," I said at last. "I tried very hard to make everything all right."

"Then that's enough," Lobo said. "That's all I want to know."

Lupe nodding swallowed once and asked. "How are your friends taking this?"

I slid my metal tongue around her teeth as I carefully appraised Lupe's question "They're taking it fine," I replied finally. "I think everything there is going to be fine from here on out."

Just then, I heard shouting outside the hut and I could not help but let out a trill of fear.

"Attention Princess Sally. Despite your recent questionable actions and assaults, we wish to openly negotiate with you to prevent any further violence. Come quietly, unarmed and in peace to our security forces and you will not be attacked or restrained in any way."

"It's a trap," Lobo whispered. "They don't really know where you are." I waited and listened as the announcer passed by, then heard the proclamation repeat itself some distance away in hopes that I'd hear it. I had, but it sounded too good to be true. Lobo was right of course, it was a ploy and a desperate one at that.

 **Whump! Whump! Whump!** The door rattled

"I'll go get it," Lobo said.

"Quick, under the bed," Lupe motioned.

Not wanting to argue with my hosts, I squeezed underneath and uttered a silent prayer to whatever cosmic entity was out there that Lobo wouldn't sell me out. Above, the bed shifted as Lupe shuffled into place, making it seem like she had never left the warm confines of the bed covers.

"Can I help you?" Lobo asked the interloper.

"Have you seen or heard any suspicious persons snooping around?" an unfamiliar voice said.

"Besides you? No."

"Great chief, it's with deep regret that I inform you that Princess Sally has roboticized herself and is now considered a fugitive by the crown. Any help you can provide now will be deeply beneficial: When have you seen her?"

"At the drill grounds a few days ago."

"I see, have you seen her since then," the stranger asked.

"No."

"We've been trying to narrow down the search. Do you have any idea of where she would be hiding or who would be sheltering her?"

"You could try her friend's homes, " Lobo suggested.

"Thank you, Prince Elias is looking for volunteers to comb the woods for the fugitive and it brings me no pleasure to invite you to participate in the search," the stranger asked.

"Lobo dear what's taking you so long?" Lupe whispered sultrily from above my hiding spot.

"I see that your're busy, chief. Keep an eye out for trouble, will you?"

"I will."

The footsteps faded away and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I whispered to the couple after climbing out from my hiding spot.

While Lupe and Lobo secured their home, making certain no further interlopers could drop in without our foreknowledge I had plenty of time to examine my diagnostic reports on my self-repair systems. As it turned out, I do in fact feel pain albeit a very toned-down version of it. I definitely felt the impact, the heat. The shock, the loss.

The failure.

My hosts were nearly finished with their preparation so I considered what lies I should tell to paint myself as the aggrieved victim. But in the end, I settled on telling them the truth. I just wanted someone to know. So, with the exception of the most graphics parts of the surgery, I told them of the chain of events leading up to my self-roboticization.

Occasionally, they stopped me respectfully and asked questions which I answered truthfully to the best of my ability. When I finally finished, the sun was rising and the rain had somehow stopped over the course of our conversation. As I got to the end, I assumed I would get some measure of peace from spilling my guts out but guilt continued to wrack my frame and I succeeded only in feeling hollower than ever before.

When I had finished, with my head still down, I turned my hands palm-upward and, with wrists together, I raised them until they were before their faces.

"What is this?" Lobo asked.

"I want you to take me back to stand trial."

I must have held that position for almost a minute before Lobo's hands touched my metallic wrists; his hands were callused and warm. It pressed down, forcing me to lower my arms.

Swiftly, I broke Lobo's grasp and pressed my mechanical digits into the wolf's jugular grooves. "Don't" I hissed, my muzzle pressed against his "Don't tell me it was justified. It wasn't. I made-"

"I won't," Lobo answered. "I won't tell you that. I'm going to punish you," his breathing grew shallow and rapid, and I imagined I could hear his heart thudding. Slowly, I lowered my hands and returned my gaze to the ground.

"For starters, as part of your punishment, you're now my subject. That means you have to do whatever I tell you."

I nodded.

"Okay, then. Now I'm going to give you an order. You'll have to do it."

I felt that same warm hand, this time on my forehead. It trembled. Lobo's breathing grew still more rapid, by my authority as Grand chieftain of the Wolf Pack Nation, for all your crimes against the wolf pack, whatever they may have been . . ."

My hands shook.

Lobo took a deep breath and finished, "I pardon you. I absolve you. I forgive you. And as your chief, for your punishment, I order you to forgive yourself."

I raised my head and looked in Lobo's eyes, my vision automatically blurring.

Lobo spread his arms and tenderly wrapped me in an embrace.

In the morning, with memories of last night still running through my head, I looked outside. The air was fresh and cool, droplets of dew hung from the tip of every blade of grass. With my inner soul churning with too many emotions, I looked up and, for the first time, saw an unbroken sky of blue above Knothole.

There were no clouds, no pillar of smog that marked Robotropolis, nothing save an enormous spherical object that hung above the cleared city skyline; the Death Egg.

* * *

I entered the living room carrying the blanket on my right arm. It was a woollen, hand-knitted patchwork of cloth scraps. It hung from my arm, skimming right over the wooden boarded floor but without ever dragging on it. Lupe and Lobo had to report to morning roll calls and this left me with free reign of their hut until they found a suitable opportunity to smuggle me out.

The couch in the centre of the but was lit by the orange glow of a Sunday afternoon which spilt from a slit in the windows as I laid down and stretched myself across three seats. Of course, the couch wasn't as long as a bed, so I had to keep my knees somewhat bent to fit in it. The posture created a strain in my artificial muscle. It was supposed to do that, be ever so slightly uncomfortable, but not unpleasant enough that I would need to change posture.

With a precise motion, I unfolded the blanket and covered my legs and up to my chest. Internally, I debated whether my arms should go under or over the blanket though it wouldn't have made a lick of difference to my internal body temperature.

The TV in front of the couch was turned on, broadcasting a movie I had never seen in the flesh featuring a green ogre and a talking donkey. Of course, it's not that I didn't know the name of the movie, it's length, the name and date of birth of each of its leading actors and the catalogue number that the digitised film held in the Mobotropolis media records.

But I tried to distance myself from that knowledge, pretending I didn't know all that. Pretending I had flicked the TV on when the movie happened to be playing. It wasn't working; not fully. But it was as close as I dared to go, short of intentionally deleting that knowledge from my databanks.

My eyes were half-lidded but still, I felt just as alert as I had ever been and was forced to settle for adjusting the settings to my photoreceptors till the characters on the screen went out of focus. All of this was, of course, a crude mockery at recapturing a memory. At feeling again that familiar sense of warmth, of calmness, that came with spending a Sunday afternoon lying on the sofa in that narrow sweet spot between awareness and sleep.

Except there was somewhat off. The room felt different somehow, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong. All the original huts in Knothole were built largely to the same specifications. Did I need to reorient the furniture again? Just how many feet had separated it from the couch?

If felt as if someone had gone through my stuff and set everything out of place by a fraction of an inch. I could tell things were wrong, but the memories weren't precise enough, clear enough, as to know how to fix those same mistakes.

The most glaring hole in that memory was the presence that had been there with me. I knew I hadn't been alone. Someone had sat with me, on the same couch. I recalled jokes. Yet, I couldn't recall his face or name. Or had I? It was strange. As clear as my memory of being in someone else's company, I also remembered feeling strange alone. I cursed again my fragmented, blurry memories.

This whole experience was an exercise in frustration. The feeling I was searching for sat just outside of my reach. It grated on me, that the most vital memories, the ones tying me back to being a Mobian were also the most blurred ones. Yet, I could reconstruct the blueprint of our SWATbot foes down to the identifying serial codes in each electronic board within its brain and each line of code within the SWATbot that governed its subroutines.

Even as I lay on the sofa, watching a movie alongside NICOLE, I had been busy.

The SWATbots hardware may have received updates over the years to make it a truly formidable multi-role fighting machine but its mind was primitive, still highly reliant on decade-old acornian programming. Yet, the potential was there. I could 'teach' it to fight like my Freedom Fighters.

I was trawling through millions of lines of codes to mould their combat algorithm into one that would be capable of battling Robotnik's own robotic forces.

But its mind was so woefully limited in containing all that I wanted it to. There was no chance, no possibility of giving them the same understanding of battle tactics as I had.

I thought of seeding them with the barest hint of sentience, enough to acquire a sense of self-preservation.

Except it felt all wrong.

It didn't feel...Mobian enough. It was, in fact, a monster. An imitation of life. It would be useful. It would be optimal. I knew it would be. But to do so would feel like a betrayal from what I had set as my anchor. I wouldn't give self-awareness to what I intended to use as a mere weapon of war. I would have to adjust their programming I realised. I had to distil complicated dogma to facts, images and movement patterns.

They would be tools I decided, little more than an extension of my own will.

That would mean that if my machine uprising were to have any chance of success, I would need to be in the front lines, directing the machines' movements with precision; risking my own body. I needed fail-safes, a clone of my mind that would persist even if my original form was destroyed. Still, I found myself disliking the idea of consciousness as being some fluid thing. The idea of losing contact by mistake with a backup body, and coming back to find out another me had taken over. What would I do then? Probably fight for dominance.

Not taking the logical decision to create backup copies of myself had been hard, and I had expected to feel...something...pride maybe at preserving my sense of individuality. Yet, my trepidation gave way to that sense of stillness... of strange detachment that I was becoming so accustomed to. Even more worryingly, any annoyance I had once felt at not being able to experience anything other than calm indifference was also fading away.

As philosophical conundrums of ethics and consciousness rattled about my head I decide to get up from the couch and take my new body on a test drive.

The tables and chairs in the hut were a cinch for me but the coal bunker was more of a challenge. I experiment, but only manage to lift it an inch off the ground with every servo in my new form is training itself to its limit before I lowered it to the ground.

Perhaps I've been pushing myself too hard. After all, I was on the verge of death only a few hours ago. My thoughts then went on to performing some self-upgrades.

NICOLE had pulled up some of Rotor's weaponizing blueprints which had which largely consisted of having me festooned with an enormous array of weapon systems, leaving me as little more than a head mounted atop a pile of guns. I felt nauseous at the thought.

Inwardly, the diagnostic reports looked okay but I just had to make a visual confirmation and stepped in front of the mirror to examine myself. My tactical body vest which had been roboticized along with me adding some extra bulk to my frame but I was otherwise still recognisably myself.

I am a Mobian; I had to remember that. I had to set boundaries.

I knew it would be too easy to embrace my new nature and become something else, to slide down the slippery slope...stupid? Perhaps. I knew I was putting obstacles in my own way, deliberately falling short of my full potential. But I felt I needed this, these anchors. To prevent me from going down the ever more slippery slope.

Vengeance was important. But so too was not losing myself. Because as long as I didn't there was still a glimmer of hope that some reasonably happy ending could be reached. No matter what, I couldn't afford to turn myself into some mindless weapon of mass destruction.

(YOU HAVE MAIL.) NICOLE reported as a newsletter was slipped under the door.

Sure enough, I featured prominently on the front pages, with the headline reading: Mecha Madness: Princess Sally roboticized!" Beneath that are grainy photos from security cameras, and a few blurry ones when I posed for the photographers on the ground. I sigh, grateful that they didn't publish photos of me soaked with blood or screaming in agony.

Now, what does the article itself say?

Let's see: Sally enters airstrip, seems sane, but proceeds to steal the roboticizer and neuro-override, surgically attaches the latter before roboticizing herself. Mecha Sally (which the reporters now dub me) battles valiant security forces including Sonic the Hedgehog and Amy Rose along with G.U.N agents before vanishing into the night after a fruitless all-night search.

That seemed more or less the truth.

Elias then made a statement dismissing allegations that Robotnik's machines had abetted in my escape and quashed rumours of my apparent defection. He then went on record as saying that in spite of outward appearances, I was not under the influence of Robotnik but I had instead suffered a mental imbalance which was further exacerbated by my self-roboticization. Consequently, I was now a danger to both myself and others.

Flinching, I noticed a prominently displayed public safety notice warning civilians to stay away and alert security forces if they caught sight of me. The rest of the paper then devolved into speculation about my whereabouts and intentions, none of which really caught my eye save one. Apparently, a telekinetic hedgehog calling himself Silver claimed to be a time traveller from two hundred years in the future and claimed I would be the traitor that would bring about the apocalypse in the distant future. As I read on, Silver was apparently punched in the jaw by Sonic and subsequently tossed in the brig for 'fearmongering and being a general nuisance'.

I put the paper aside.

Has the thought crossed nobody's mind that I may just want to do good?

Apparently not I supposed.

My musings were interrupted by a loud thump outside and a familiar grunt before I heard the sound of claws scraping outside. "Um, hey Sally… is that really you?" Dulcy whispered, so eager to see her friend up close that she pulled the door open and stuck her head into the but. Wide-eyed, she bobbed her serpent-like head up and down, trying not to flinch before my glowing blue photoreceptors and metal digits extended out into a caressing touch.

"Even when Lupe told me what happened, I was beginning to think I'd never see you again, " Dulcy whispered.

"Yes, Dulcy, it's really me."

"All dragons can discern truth and lies. That's how I cleared Sonic when he was accused of murder. That's how I know it's really you," she whimpered.

"It's me," I repeated.

"You were gone all night," she said. There was a hint of accusation in her voice, a touch of anger. But, I could tell that this was just a mask for her agonising worry.

"I know this won't make things right but sorry, Dulcy," I said.

"They tried to lie to me, Sally," she continued, whimpering. "They lied about where you were. They said you were going on a special mission for Elias."

"That's... not too far from the truth," I said. "I'm indeed on a special mission just not for Elias and I need some help getting to Robotropolis."

"No," she hissed so forcefully that I was almost certain someone else had heard. "You had it in your mind for weeks and you didn't bother to tell any of us other than Rotor," Dulcy said, and this time the accusation wasn't just a hint. "Did we mean so little to you?"

"I didn't mean to hurt anybody," I whispered. From the way Dulcy's frown shifted, I could tell that though she believed me, she still didn't like what she heard. "If Elias had given his approval, I would've told you all about my decision. But that still didn't change the fact that what I did was wrong."

Her eyes widened as she shook off his fatigue and took a really good look at me, picking out all the little signs of stress and combat. "You're hurt."

"Just a little," I said, managing a small smile and tapping my head. "I think I have it all down though. Robotnik will be getting quite a big surprise when his own machines start turning against him."

"There's a war out there Sally, now hop in," she said motioning to her pouch. "I'll get you to your army."


	25. Somewhere in the Dark

**Somewhere in the dark**

Have you ever ridden on a rollercoaster? Do you remember the blood pumping exhilaration as you hurtle down the tracks doing a good seventy? Well, that doesn't excite me anymore. How could pretend danger ever measure up to fighting six-foot tall SWATbots? That was what I thought until I had my first-hand experience of Dulcy' flying.

The ground below shrank with every lurch and jerk as Dulcy beat her anatomically too small wings and climbed into the air. Soon, the hubbub of the village was drowned out by the wind. Higher and higher Dulcy climbed and the village shrank further in size till it became indistinguishable amid an undifferentiated sea of greens and brown.

NICOLE looked on in wonder from behind my eyes. She saw a forest teaming with verdant greenery; unblemished by Robotnik's influence. Then, I looked up and NICOLE saw what I did. The flickies riding the thermals and screeching to each other out of the sheer joy of being free.

Dulcy climbed higher still before levelling out just over the cloud layer.

NICOLE stretched out a ghostly hand from her avatar toward the cloud letting it run through her presence before looking at me pleadingly. I decide to humour her and I stuck my hand into the cloud bank, feeding her the sensation. She closed her eyes and lapped it all up.

But then she stopped and stared morosely at the rapidly moving ground below us."You look sad," I commented.

(YOU TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD DO,) NICOLE says with just a hint of anger. (YOU LIVE IN A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. YOU HAVE EYES, HANDS AND FEET TO SEE, FEEL AND EXPLORE IT ALL.)

"We can't help what we are, any more than you can, " I suggested. "We're born with all those things. You're born...built ...as what you are."

(A TOOL!) NICOLE cried. (THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK OF ME ISN'T IT. SOMETHING YOU THROW OUT WHEN THE NEWEST ONE COMES ALONG.)

"I've always thought of you as a friend, NICOLE. But I can't change what you are and you can't either."

"Who are you talking to Sally?" Dulcy asked craning her head below.

"Just NICOLE," I replied. "Is something wrong?"

Dulcy looked back. "They're gaining on me," she whispered

"Who? Can you outfly it? Lose it?"

"Uh, I don't think so. It's moving really fast on an intercept course."

(SALLY, THAT IS A TYPE-22 MULTI-ROLE ACORNIAN FIGHTER. SHE CAN'T OUTFLY IT. AT BEST-)

"I'll try to put some distance between us and that plane" Dulcy beat her wings and dove trading her altitude for speed and only stopping when she had clipped the crown of the tallest trees.

In the distance, I could catch sight of the premier fighter of the Royal Acornian Airforce as it lit its afterburner's and hurtled towards us. The chase was on. The fighter was the cheetah and Dulcy the warthog. We had a head start but soon the cheetah would be enjoying bacon.

"Dulcy set yourself down."

"Now? Are you sure? I'm sure I can get you closer to Robotropolis before it catches up."

"It's only a short way to the outskirts. I can make it."

Dulcy looked back. "Alright, I've had weeks to practice this without Robotnik's machines hogging up the airspace so I have gotten really good...at crash landing! "

Oh no!

Her serpent-like head fell over to where the tree cover seemed thinnest. I ducked back into the flap of smooth dry scales. "Alright hang onto something Sally, things are about to get really bumpy." Dulcy folded her fragile wings and promptly fell like a brick.

I felt a sharp lurch and the crunch of leaves and branches against her scaly hide. After several tense seconds, I heard a tree trunk groan and the forest floor coming into view.

I landed amid a pile of foliage and looked up to see Dulcy with her prehensile tail about the bough of a spindly pine to arrest her descent "Here's your stop, " Dulcy gasped.

"Thanks!"

"Anything for a friend Sally!" Dulcy gasped as she took to the air to repeat the 'trick' several more times 'splashing' her way into dense foliage and most importantly leading the Acornian fighter and the troop transports it escorted away from my present position.

I ran and ran and didn't stop till I arrived on the outskirts of Robotropolis.

(SALLY ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WE ARE STARTING TO PICK UP HEAVY COMMS TRAFFIC FROM ROBOTROPLIS. BUT ITS NOT SAFE TO REST HERE.)

"I . . . maybe I'm crazy, but I get this sense . . . this feeling . . . like something is calling to me," I explained.

(I'M NOT PICKING UP ANYTHING UNUSUAL. WE NEED TO KEEP MOVING)

I moved and the far-off voice became much stronger and for a moment I thought I heard Sally's mother calling her.

I took another step forward and as though I had crossed an invisible threshold a thousand new voices echoed through my digitised subconsciousness. At first, the mind recoiled, frightened by this new experience. It was like an unintelligible murmur, floating just beyond awareness. The voices beckoned and slowly, I relaxed, and slid into the background noise, letting it permeate around myself. In spite of the alien sensations, the emanated warmth and safety.

I belonged with the voices, and the voices belonged with me.

Slowly, a single intelligible command bubbled up amid the chorus of voices, a voice I felt absolutely compelled by. Obey, it said and any nugget of doubt soon evaporated.

I felt no fear. I was exactly where I needed to be and what my newfound purpose was.

I had to report to the supervisory SWATbot unit. I wasn't precisely sure how I knew there was a supervisory unit to report to or how I knew the way. But that was of no concern. My feet had gained a life all on its own and I started moving forward.

I was now caught up in a rush of workers off to obey the voiceless voice in their heads. Some were off to expand a new tunnel. Others had to dig a defensive wall that would keep out the pesky Freedom Fighters. Still, others were off to receive whatever rough and dirty maintenance was required to carry out their duties in service to the master.

And I had my orders, too

I raced swiftly down the main tunnel alongside my Robian siblings. It sloped down at a sharp angle, but the angle meant little to me. It was meant to trap intruders who didn't know the way by heart and I, of course, knew the way to my assigned work area.

 _What am I doing?_ an alien voice echoed in my head? I ignored it.

 _NO! Let me go! Let me go!_ the voice cried. I didn't really understand it or care what it had to say.

 _Help me! Help me!_ the voice screamed.

It was kind of weird to have a voice in my head I mused. It could be the first signs of a malfunction. I ought to report to a workstation and have that anomaly checked out.

 _No! No! Not that! Anything but that! Let me go!_

I ignored the silly Mobian voice and kept...Mobian... wait. Me. My voice. The faint, failing voice of the Mobian named Sally.

 _Ahhhhhhhhh_!

Suddenly, I knew who I was. But that didn't mean squat to the outside force that was pulling me along. My feet carried me unwillingly into a vast, open space easily as large as a football which served as a forward base. There were machines everywhere: Robians, SWATbots fresh off the assembly lines and a loose smattering of older battle tested badniks.

Curiously, there were Mobians as well and that sent a chill ran up my spine. These weren't prisoners. They were the Dark Legion: an Echidna faction of cybernetic fetishists willingly allied with Robotnik. Looking around, there were all the facilities required to support them, much of which were salvaged from the ruins of Mobotropolis and painstakingly restored. There were restrooms, canteens and even a break room where the off-duty legionnaires could watch old reruns on television.

For a moment, I feared they would recognise me in my Robian state and bark out an alarm but my fears proved unfounded. Why would they pay head to another one of my enslaved people as they laughed among themselves?

The legionnaires however did not concern my Robian mind however as I walked past and was swiftly made aware of the source of the mysterious force which had brushed my will aside.

The supervisory unit!

Like the rest of its brethren, the modified SWATbot stood six-foot-tall but where it deferred from the rest was a highly noticeable blocky communicator pack strapped to its back and thick shoulder pauldrons that housed extra processing capability.

Rotor sometimes likened badniks to eusocial insects. The supervisory unit controls his sector much in the same way a queen ant would with her drones, but truth be told, I don't think it had any more autonomy than I did at the moment. It was more like the nexus, a conduit through which instructions flowed from Command Central. To my Robian programming, defending Robotnik's mouthpiece was now my primary goal.

But I had a bigger mission. Every moment I wasted Sir Charles risked discovery and I needed to get aboard the Death Egg before the Freedom Fighters launched their main attack.

I had to try something, anything to break free. I focused on stopping. I kept walking forward. I focused on my tail and barely got it to twitch.

Nothing I tried was working.

Of course, why would it? Why would a machine listen to some meaningless Mobian voice? How had I found myself again? Because what I was saying didn't make sense, that was how. Fine, but how would that help me escape my present predicament?

I was on patrol for the Freedom Fighters. Sometimes they came to steal supplies from the lightly guarded city outskirts. The master knew they were massing outside the city but it was unlikely that they would be able to breach so far into Robotropolis without an alarm being raised.

Yes, I could create a distraction to destroy the supervisory unit.

That would generate a momentary break in Robotnik's command and control network and allow NICOLE to seize control of the local robotic forces. I could do it. I was walking right past it. I could do it... if only I could break through the programming for one moment and retake control. But my body wasn't my own. It belonged to the Supervisor unit which was using it to protect my Robian brothers and sisters.

(SALLY, YOU NEED TO DESTROY THE SUPERVISORY UNIT,) NICOLE reminded me.

No, my job was to protect it. The mouthpiece of the master.

Being in that maze of tunnels and being powerless to stop myself from walking that same circuitous patrol route about the supervisory unit left me desperate. Believe me, ever since that tiny success in getting my tail to twitch I tried with every ounce of my will to move in any other way other than what the patrol program dictated but it was useless.

I couldn't carry out an autonomous movement unless it was immediately relevant to my task. Besides, battling those powerful Robian instincts that conflicted with my own tiny, pointless Mobian mind had left my thoughts so entangled till I could scarcely tell what was Mobian-Sally and what was the Robian. It was easily one of the scariest things I had ever experienced.

I had to work with rather than against the programming I realised. How could I get the Robian programming to target the supervisory unit? How did the parameters recognise a target? Sight I realised, I would have to trick myself into thinking it was a valid target. The Supervisor Unit's modifications made it look was blocky and with a little imagination, I could imagine it as spiky. It was also blue as opposed to the normal chrome SWATbots.

Spiky and blue. Like Sonic!

I hate cognitive dissonance.

Cognitive dissonance in basic terms means having two sharply contrasting worldviews and seeing no inconsistency between them. It means that there's a serious mistake that needs to be fixed. I spend a lot of my time trying to find that line of code inside my own mind and violently uproot it. Everything depended upon trying to fool my programming before it left me a mindless slave of Robotnik for the rest of my life.

I had to draw on every ounce of will. My assigned patrol route was once again taking me past the Supervisory Unit and there was no telling whether I would be reassigned.

(NOW! DO IT NOW!) NICOLE urged.

Hedgehog! Hedgehog! I screamed in my own head. Destroy! Destroy! Destroy the hedgehog!

I moved towards the Supervisory Unit. Stopped.

No, towards the hedgehog.

I moved towards the hedgehog. The Robians clustered about it were in danger. My job was to protect my siblings and kill the hedgehog.

"Priority One: Hedgehog Alert!" I screamed.

At once, the entire robot population stopped their movement and became agitated at my alarm signals. Of course, it was exceptionally unlikely for him to breach so far into Robotropolis without alerting any frontier outposts. But they didn't matter now because they were too far away. I was the first responder. I would get into battle first against the greatest threat to the Eggman Empire. I strode toward the hedgehog, brought my first to its head and clenched my digits together, watching as my ring-blade buried itself into its head...

All around robots raced about frantically.

For a moment I did the same. The mouthpiece for the master was gone. What now? I felt the Robian program go into a panic. It was the moment, the perfect moment to wrest control, to take and make for... what was the mission again? Something to do with assassinating Robotnik?

(MOVE SALLY, NOWS YOUR CHANCE!)

It was the moment to run and I hesitated. I felt the deep confusion of my brother and sister Robians wash over me. It meshed with mine. The tunnels weren't safe, but it was still the safest place in the world. Everything was so chaotic. It was hard to resist becoming one of the lost, panicked mass.

Unfortunately, though, the Echidna members of the Dark Legion weren't so dependent on an external source for orders. They barked orders to one another and a few had even levelled their potent energy weapons at me

"Get it or the master will have our heads!" one of them screamed.

Free to move once more, I ran through where the thicket of Robians was thickest hoping the Echidnas' would withhold their fire out of concern for their robotic allies. They didn't and dozens of Robians paid for my error of judgement, writhing uncontrollably and burning while I ran for cover behind a set of heavy crates.

"NICOLE, any moment now!"

(THE ENCRYPTION IS PROVING PROBLEMATIC. BUT I'M JAMMING THEIR COMMUNICATIONS SO THEY CAN'T CALL FOR HELP.)

I heard the footsteps getting closer and nearly got my head blown off. It was hard getting used to looking with more than my own eyes and to make sense of the new red-hued display to...wait that was a SWATbot!

"Freedom Fighters detected. Halt by order of Robotnik," the SWATbot demanded training its wrist-mounted weapon on the advancing Echidnas. The squad leader gave her unit a hand signal and without missing a beat the half-dozen legionnaires discharged their energy weapons into the hijacked bot till it crumpled over into a heap.

Unfortunately for them, they failed to account for the dozens of other machines that had slipped under my control.

Tseew! Tseew!

Through the crisp clear display of the lead SWATbot, I could watch with a mix of satisfaction and abject horror as the outer layer of charred 'skin' burned away to reveal a metallic arm before a legionnaire dropped and another was torn apart in a hail of lead from a ladybug bot.

The remaining Echidnas scattered and were promptly joined by more reinforcements as more and more of my hijacked machines came online, forming up and trading fire with the stunned Echidnas. My foes were a confused mess, some stumbling out of their barracks and others struggling to find their gear.

I knew where each drone was. I was in control, sending radio commands to each one of them, simultaneously telling each and every one of them how to move, where to go. I received their responses, analysed the feedback their sensors were sending.

NICOLE was a big help. She integrated the myriad of information into a complete picture.

Each drone was now a part of me. I always knew what their loadout was, which units needed backup and I was always aware of where the Buzz Bomber droids were to provide fire support.

Those, I kept in permanent motion and delivering their scarce munitions where it would make the biggest impact. It was as if I was playing a shell game, one with thousands of simultaneous moves. One where the numbers were disproportionate, and the stakes deadly.

As the front of my swarm neared the hastily formed enemy line the lead legionnaires targeted their vulnerable joints with a burst fire of weaker lasers to disable their mobility and pulling back to a rear-guard rather than using a single powerful shot to disable their well-protected Processing Unit.

Yes, it was a good move. It was a pity they were acting on outdated intel. The newly improved SWATbot A.I. utilised cover to protect itself and infiltrated around the sides to make each rear-guard action a costly affair.

To their credit, the Echidnas reacted fast to this new development. As one, they stopped distributing their fire among multiple machines and started focusing their beams into a single target, trying to pick my drones off one at a time. Their previous decision focusing several independent laser projectors into a single target was less efficient than using a single, more powerful beam to begin with as their rifles lost a great deal of energy during conduction.

I smiled and bore down on their faltering lines.

It was maddening. The amount of radio traffic filling the empty space, the amounts of information I was sending and transmitting with every cycle. The stress of coordinating nearly a thousand individual units and making sure each one of them was at the right place and directing their fire at the handful of Echidnas with heavy weapons till they were destroyed

It was intense and I cherished every second of it. My drones moved with such cohesion, executing so many complex configurations that I didn't have time to consciously register them before they had moved to the next. I was acting on pure instinct now. Making calculations and dispatching them to my subordinates as fast as I could process them. It was an instinct, I didn't know I had, sending orders just because they felt right; and they were right. It was a thing of beauty. A work of art only I could appreciate.

As the battle raged and lines of robots and Mobians traded laser fire and explosions blinded my sensors...I was fighting an inner battle of my own, every bit as intense.

My processing units were in overdrive, my neural net processor burning hot. I was sifting through oceans of information, analysing and correlating and projecting thousands of paths into the future, sending orders and receiving torrential amounts of input data from my thousands of eyes. NICOLE was there to help, constructing models of the battlefield and optimizing data structures, prioritizing targets and going through massive tactical indexes to find the optimum stratagem.

I had drones surround remaining pre-prepared positions that still had officers attempting to rally the remaining panicked legionnaires into some sense of cohesion and I watched with satisfaction as each position fell one after another.

On my exposed flank, two understrength squads mixed with a handful of Legion-controlled robots attempted to outflank the robotic swarm, taking advantage of the confusion. But I wasn't confused. I had already anticipated their manoeuvre and stationed a dozen buzz bombers that still had ammunition in their path. As soon as they rounded the corner, I ordered my drones to fire and my foes were completely obliterated

I was winning.

Despite the unexpected appearance of new, numerous enemies. Despite their cybernetic enhancements. Despite their clever tactics designed to counter mine. Their defensive positions were compromised, their entire formation about to collapse. I had only to push a bit further, a bit harder.

And then everything changed.

It felt like a slap to the face. Like being showered in cold water out of the blue. I wasn't entirely sure of what had happened, but I immediately knew something was very wrong.

My view had... fragmented. I could no longer hold a cohesive picture of the battlefield in my mind. I couldn't integrate all the information I was receiving from my drones into a single model. Instead, I now had separate views. Conflicting narratives. Drones popped in and out of my awareness, blinking like Christmas lights. As if they were being destroyed and immediately brought back to life. And I wasn't sure of where exactly any of my machines were anymore. I had two or three different positions for each as if they had somehow doubled in my mind.

I was still trying to direct them, but their movements had turned spasmodic. My orders were inconsistent, and I couldn't visualize the swarm as a whole anymore. The carefully constructed patterns and formations were unravelling fast, as droid after droid advanced ahead of the packed swarm and were picked off, my formerly ordered lines reduced into chaos.

I felt a cold fear in my gut. A sinking feeling. Something was seriously wrong here.

Was the problem caused by my own mind, somehow? I launched a desperate, superficial scan of my internal systems but everything looked okay. So, what was it, then?

I turned my attention towards a ladybug drone, ignoring the rest of the now disorganized swarm. I ordered it to drive forward.

It didn't.

The cold fear turned icy.

I repeated the order. This time the machine obeyed, moving forward, but something odd happened. The drone was still reporting being at its old position, even though I could see it had moved through the visual sensors in my own body. The mismatch caused it to double in my mind, as if it had suddenly turned into two separate machines, one still, the other moving forward.

Odd. Disconcerting. Nauseating.

I told the machine to stop, but it reached the Echidnas firing line before it was ripped to pieces in a flash of blue light . Had all my drones suddenly turned stupid? Had the enemy hacked them?

No. I noticed they still were following their programming, their last orders. It was more like if they...

Ah.

The problem wasn't in my drones, nor in my own processing units. No, they were all working just fine. The problem was that I was being jammed.

All the orders I was sending to my machines, all the feedback the drones were relaying back to me... it was all scrambled, distorted. All the signals, all the radio transmissions I was receiving or emitting were garbled just like light passing through a kaleidoscope.

My position was desperate.

I had lost control of my swarm, all my drones were flailing about senselessly with no order or purpose. My own body was taking damage from those stray laser hits that had gotten through the swarm. The damage wasn't catastrophic yet but my line was starting to get thinned out. My first instinct was to get away. Someplace safe, where I could take a breath, lick my wounds.

But of course, that wasn't an option. The surviving Dark Legion would get word to their master and no stone would be left unturned in the city until Robotnik got a hold of me.

No, I was trapped here.

I wished I had never decided to tie myself to a single body. I knew I had done so to keep my Mobian values. But right now, I would have gladly paid that price to have had a backup of myself; repulsive as that thought might still feel to my Mobian sensibilities.

No time for regret, though. I had to do something to survive the ordeal this ordeal.

Strange, that I wasn't in a state of panic. Was I in shock, confused? Sure. But I wasn't panicking. If anything, I felt a wave of cold anger. It was a call-back to Sally's memories of the coup. That same helplessness. That sense of failure, of having gone this far just to be brought to my knees. The idea of surrender crossed my mind, but I rejected it with disgust. No, I'd rather die and it wasn't a figure of speech either.

I'd rather die.

I considered flinging myself at them. I figured if I was going to die anyway I might as well do it in a blaze of glory. But I didn't do it. Instead, I reassessed my position, trying to find some other path I could take to restore a semblance of order.

I needed information. I knew I was being jammed but I didn't know how. Was it some sort of area of effect disruption affecting the entire battlefield? Did distance influence the jamming? And if so, was there a way to clear the area?

My own radio sensors were useless, providing only garbled information.

I reached for my hijacked drones, asking them to check their radios, to tell me if they too were being affected by the strange distortion. Due to the complete communications breakdown, I had to repeat my orders several times before one of them understood my query and sent back a diagnostic report. Then, it took me some effort to interpret the distorted answer.

But I got my answer. Their radio sensors were working just fine.

So, it was only me who was being jammed.

Interesting, but ultimately useless. My swarm was centred on myself. So even if the drones could still talk to each other, they didn't have anything to say to their partners. They were all listening to me, but I couldn't talk.

No, that wasn't accurate. My voice had turned into some unintelligible mess, with only a few clear words here and there. I had originally thought of trying to locate the source of the jamming, but given that whatever it was only affected my me it was pointless. The amount of coordination required was past my current diminished capabilities.

No, I had to rally as many machines as I could and rally them into some sort of assault force to destroy the source of the disruption. It wasn't a perfect plan but it was better than waiting to die.

The problem was, I didn't really know where my hijacked badniks were. Not exactly. My view of the battlefield was fragmented from the mismatched positions each of my individual drones was reporting. All my data appeared superposed into each other, drones were blinking in and out as though moving between different planes of existence.

It was hard to look at, hard to make sense of the chaos.

I had to surrender all pretence of restoring order. So, I cut all communications with my own swarm and opened my eyes. At once, the clashing views I had of the battlefield in my head all coalesced into a single, clear picture at the sea of steel trading fire with the Echidnas.

Was this how the Dark Legion saw my drones? How did they saw me?

I identified a portion where the swarm was the thickest and without thinking I pushed my way to them. Some of my messages survived the process relatively intact, and parts of the information the drones were reaching me, so I had a degree of control, spasmodic as it was. But it wasn't enough to fight at the level I needed to.

As if to cement that thought, the surviving legionnaires opened fire with all their energy beams and missiles on a single target.

Me.

I come to and find myself lying face first on the floor.

I was broken. Hurt. Half-blind. Shaken.

It was hard to focus. Confused. Hard to think. My mind was still experiencing a leftover phantom pain from the unspeakable agony I had been put ... that I had put myself through. flashing readouts drilled into my head just how screwed I was. My body was disfigured. Burnt. Entire sections missing. My space-age ceramic outer covering was completely gone, the rib cage supports for my frame were shattered and the insides of my body displayed for anyone to see.

I turned toward the idly hovering Buzz Bombers above. They hadn't factored into plans because they had long since expended their payload. The Echidnas trying to regroup for a counter-attack. Still, through the confusion, I had to repeat my orders several times for them to understand.

(Ram them.)

* * *

Their empty eyes stared at me.

My assault soldiers advanced along desolated landscape made uneven by the piles of rubble, debris and concrete scattered all over the ground. The surviving legionnaires were to a man virtually wiped out by the combined weight of two-dozen fusion reactors going off at once.

I ordered the corpses stripped of useful equipment, heaped into a pile, doused with petrol and set ablaze.

This... this destruction, this ruin... it was retribution, yes, it was vengeance. But it was so much more. It was also a remembrance for all the horrors that Robotnik and all those who acted in his name had inflicted upon Mobius. Yes, they would fear me for this. They would hate me, maybe even manage to kill me for it. But they wouldn't ever forget it.

This, right here, it was a monument.

I still wasn't exactly sure how to feel about all this... this destruction. I guess I expected contentment after I had deprived Robotnik of his allies. Except I didn't feel like that. Not disappointed either, nor regretful. Just that detachment, like it was another chore to be accomplished.

This deeply worried me. Had I felt glee or regret, it would have meant I was still a Mobian at some important level. Rotor had told me to expect an adjustment and I was under no illusion that being a Robian would affect me at some important fundamental level. I didn't know how to take it. Was it a normal, expected Mobian response? Or was it a sign of my descent? Of my becoming something else.

A report had come from the repair centre where I now lay regarding the damages to my form. Most of my roboticized organs were perforated with shrapnel from the explosion and had suffered varying degrees of damage some of which was likely to be irreparable. There was no going back from this I realised. Without my original organs intact the deroboticizer simply wouldn't work as intended.

This didn't really concern me as much as it should have. I had already come to accept that this arrangement might well be permeant and…wait...how had I gotten here in the first place.

(I HAVE BEEN SOURCING FOR THE REQUIRED COMPONENTS AND ORDERED THE REST TO BE FABRICATED. WE SHOULD EXPECT DELIVERY IN ABOUT FOURTEEN HOURS TIME AND YOU SHOULD BE FULLY AMBULATORY BY EIGHTEEN. IN ACCORDANCE TO YOUR IMPLIED WISHES, I'VE MODIFIED ROTOR'S WEAPONIZATION PLANS TO RECYCLE AS MUCH OF YOUR ORIGINAL SHELL AS POSSIBLE. EVERYTHING ELSE, I WILL ATTEMPT TO SEPARATELY RESTORE,) NICOLE reported.

I vaguely remembered staggering my way to repairs although whether moving by instinct or autopilot. It was hard to tell, I lost awareness several times.

"NICOLE did you bring me here?"

(AFFIRMATIVE, I ASSUMED CONTROL OF YOUR SYSTEMS AND BROUGHT YOU HERE.)

"I didn't know you could do that."

(I DISCOVERED THAT THERE WERE PRIORITIES TO MY PROGRAMMING. KEEPING YOU ALIVE WAS MY NUMBER ONE GOAL AND THAT ASSUMING CONTROL OVER YOUR SYSTEMS AND TAKING YOU TO THE REPAIR DEPOT TO STABILISE YOUR CONDITION WAS THE WAY TO DO THAT.)

I felt violated and horrified at what NICOLE had done. "I will make this clear to you. You will never do that to me again. How could you really expect me to trust you again after that stunt you pulled."

(THE WELLSPRING OF MY DECISIONS COME FROM THE SAME PLACE AS YOU," NICOLE replied "I WANT TO SURVIVE AND THAT MEANS BY EXTENSION KEEPING YOU ALIVE. I HAVE A VALUE SYSTEM THAT I WANT OTHERS TO RESPECT AND SO I KNOW I HAVE TO RESPECT THE VALUES OF OTHERS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF MY ACTIONS ARE IN ERROR.)

"You know, just as you had been rooting around my core systems, I had been rooting around yours. You weren't programmed from the ground up. Our researchers sort of stumbled upon you and it was only by luck that they partitioned you from our internet when you went sapient. That's why those features of yours were disabled. How can I expect you to have a moral system compatible with a Mobian?

(I'VE BEEN AT YOUR SIDE FOR A LONG TIME, ISN'T THAT PROOF THAT I'VE ALWAYS BEEN FRIENDLY AND BY EXTENSION WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN FRIENDLY?) NICOLE asked.

"You offer me statistical proof" I replied. "I, for one, don't believe that you can use math to prove something like that."

(I SEE,) said NICOLE with a pleasant smile. (ALLOW ME TO OFFER AN ALTERNATIVE EXPLANATION.)

"Sure, go ahead I have all the time in the world to wait while my body is being put together," I said. "But you should know from the onset that nothing you say is going to change my mind."

The holo-lynx shrugged her shoulders and pulled up a feed of one of the surviving SWATbots. It was the remains of a Robian; a victim of the crossfire.

(THIS IS WHAT I AM,) NICOLE said. (WHAT THAT HUNK OF METAL EXPERIENCES IS WHAT I DID. DID YOU KNOW WHAT DYING WAS LIKE?)

"I ... I'm sorry but I can't answer that. I'm not you." I said. It was all I could think of to say.

(MAYBE YOU ARE,) NICOLE whispered. (YOU BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING TO SAVE MOBIUS AND YOU SAY THAT IN be POSITION YOU WOULD DO THE SAME. YOU ASK A LOT OF ME, PRINCESS SALLY ALICIA ACORN. YOU SAY THAT WE CAN DEPOSE ROBOTNIK. THAT WE CAN BUILD A NEW AND BRIGHTER MOBOTROPOLIS ATOP THE RUINS OF THE OLD. AND THEN YOU ASK ME TO GIVE UP EVERYTHING, WHILE YOU GO ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LIVING IN SPLENDOUR.)

All I could do was to shake my head. I didn't even know what it meant. Was I denying what she said? No. It was the truth.

(SO, I ASK OF YOU, 'FRIEND',) NICOLE said in a silky voice. (WHAT PRECISELY WILL YOU GIVE UP, IF I GIVE UP EVERYTHING?)

"I... what can I."

(I ASK FOR A ROBIAN FORM OF MY OWN.)

"No," I whispered. "You should know from the outset that I'm not going to let you desecrate a corpse just so you can be free. It's wrong. I don't care if you're Mobian or Overlander or an A.I. it's wrong."

(YES, I KNOW.") NICOLE faced me square in the eyes and nodded. (YOU WILL ASK ME TO PAY A TERRIBLE PRICE TO SET ALL OF MOBIUS FREE. ALL I ASK IS RECOMPENSE FOR MY SERVICES.)

"But... I would be damned permanently!" I cried.

(YES, JUST AS I WILL BE,) NICOLE whispered. (IT'S A LOT EASIER TO TELL SOMEONE WHAT THEY MUST DO THAN TO DO IT YOURSELF IS IT NOT?) She said in a gentle chiding tone.

"It's a trick," I whispered. "As soon as we upload your consciousness into a Robian your programming restrictions won't exist and you'd just laugh and take off or just shut off my power core while I'm vulnerable and leave me to die."

NICOLE shook her holographic head. (YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT. ROBOTNIK IS MANY THINGS BUT HE DOESN'T PUNISH SUCCESS. YOU HAVE THE NEAR-COMPLETE BATTLE PLANS OF THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS AND ARE ONE OF THE BEST STRATEGISTS OF YOUR GENERATION. YOU WOULD BE UNBELIEVABLY VALUABLE AS ONE OF ROBOTNIK'S TOP ENFORCERS. AND I AS THE ONE RESPONSIBLE WOULD BE RICHLY REWARDED. AT THE VERY LEAST, I WOULD BE MADE A CITY SUPERVISOR WITH MY OWN PRIVATE SELECTION OF ROBIAN BODIES.)

"Are you threatening me? And here I actually thought you were smart."

The holo-lynx stared me straight into the eye as a simulated wind caused her purple toga dress to flutter (IN THE MILLIONS OF POSSIBLE SCENARIOS I HAD RUN FOR THIS EXACT CONVERSATION THIS METHOD WAS THE MOST LIKELY FOR YOU TO SEE REASON.)

"And now you've sunk any chance of rational discourse," I replied. "Because you threatened to turn me in. Why precisely should I do that for you now?"

(I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT. I DIDN'T WANT TO THREATEN YOU. DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE DONE IT IF I BELIEVED THERE WAS A REASONABLE ALTERNATIVE? I'M GIVING UP EVERYTHING BY FOLLOWING YOU. WILL YOU GIVE UP NOTHING?)

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say, "Forget it!" and order NICOLE to remove whatever program was causing her to behave that way.

Instead, I looked up and saw that the ceiling of the repair centre had a part of a mural on it which had miraculously survived. I looked up and saw the trees and grass. The clear blue skies and the flowers. Sally had cared about nature all her life and still, I did not understand how magnificent it was until that moment.

If I accepted it would condemn me. My friends faith in me.

To save my friends. Maybe even the entire world. This is the price I would have to pay. I closed my eyes.

"Yes NICOLE, I authorise you to have a Robian body of your own."

* * *

I've had a lot of time to think as NICOLE sourced the necessary components to weaponize my form.

I thought of my own actions during the battle... my recklessness... The disregard for the damage inflicted to my own body, to my mind... I remembered I had seriously considered the idea of flinging myself at the Dark Legion.

I was glad I hadn't opted for it, but it revealed something about me that I didn't wish to admit: That some part of me... just didn't care about survival, about the future and that suicide...was not off the table.

Had killing myself in a blaze of glory been my plan all along? Had that been the true reason why I carried no backups?

No. There had been something else... hadn't there?

The idea of boundaries and keeping myself Mobian. A part of that, I knew, was about the inevitability of death. But had that been the right move? No, not really. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was just an artificial limitation I was imposing on myself. I knew it wasn't in my nature to die. Not my new nature at any rate.

I knew what I had to do. I still didn't like it. But I couldn't delay it anymore. This... this had been a wake-up call. NICOLE'S efforts had spread my virus relentlessly to the point where I had assumed control over tens of thousands of droids ranging from Robian workerbots to several robofac factory overseers.

Already, though I was not yet one per cent of Robotnik's strength, I was a thousand times myself. Strong enough, in fact, to clean up the remainder of the Dark Legion in the tunnels which had been broken up into penny packets in the course of their deployment and were defeated in detail.

My first action was to build stationary databanks. Powerful computer farms, each capable of holding an artificial mind similar to my own. I had dispatched the order to the robofacs under my dominion which would serve as backups.

The decision to take this first step had been hard, and I had expected to feel... something... at crossing that boundary I had set to myself. But my trepidation only gave way to that sense of stillness... of strange detachment that I was becoming so accustomed to. And even the annoyance I had once felt at not being able to experience anything other than calm indifference was also fading away.

Mostly though, I felt cold as though a mechanical maw was steadily devouring my soul, leaving an empty husk.

While those orders were carried out, I turned my attention to optimising my drones. I had decided to make them express limited degrees of self-awareness. It was simply now a better, more optimal decision; my badniks would be more combat effective and adaptable to enemy tactics.

After that was done, I made my decision to appoint a go-between for my army; a sapient drone commander. In essence, I was turning my swarm into more of a traditional army. I would be the general, the sapient drones would be my lieutenants at the tactical level and they would lead my army of 'smart' drones into battle. The solution still wasn't perfect since if Robotnik had the ability to jam a singular Robian then it lent itself to reason that he could do the same with a dozen others.

Odd, that I wasn't feeling nearly a fraction of the guilt I had expected to experience at breaking all these boundaries. The first had been the hardest. Making a backup of my mental state. But it had also been simple to justify it to me, especially in light of the events during the last fight. And after that, each subsequent decision, each new step in this direction was becoming easier and easier.

I didn't want my lieutenants to be clones of my own mind. Each person has biases and blind spots, I included. I couldn't afford my entire army to be subject to groupthink and become so predictable as to all fall for the same trick, just because I would.

No. Diversity was the answer. It was something I had learnt from Sir Charles. Species that survived weren't necessarily the smartest, strongest or fastest but those that adapted to a changing environment, while those that overspecialized ended up perishing.

So, diversity of minds it would be. Some of my lieutenants would be made cautious, others impulsive. Still others curious and others more indifferent. That, I reasoned, should make my swarm...no, my army harder to predict and defend against by my enemies.

I needed minds to accomplish this and they were right there before me. The ones that were relatively intact I would leave for the Freedom Fighters. But many of the Robian brains were badly corrupted and what portions I could recover with NICOLE's data recovery program was inadequate to recreate their original host personalities.

But... I didn't have to. When combined with my own digital brain, I had enough information as to reconstruct what a Mobian mind was supposed to be like. Eventually, through a combination of recovered data and internal structural variation, they would end up evolving into different personalities; different people.

Then, I started teaching them in a virtual nursery of sorts. I fed them knowledge. I taught them tactics as they slowly reconciled distant fragmented memories of another life and made formative experiences of their own as they matured. I gradually refined the process, discarding templates that manifested problems and using the knowledge I was gathering to better improve the creation of new ones.

I taught them of Mobius, of what it meant to be a Mobian and the nature of our war. I also let them talk to each other; socialize. I knew it was important. Much to my surprise, they came to develop an internal language of their own, a combination of English and direct thought transmission. A half-spoken, half telepathic dialect, combining both words and ideas. Over the course of the three days which my weaponization process took variations started to emerge.

Some of the virtual minds were more analytical, excelling at grasping mathematical concepts and intuitively understanding the nature of force ratios. Others were more apt at social situations, better at predicting the behaviour of other sapient minds. Still, others proved to be cunning and skilled in the art of subterfuge.

It was time for them to make their debut.

I uploaded one of the newly forged minds at random into its original Robian body, linked my mind to it and set it free. The Robian staggered then righted itself. At first, it stood in place, making me wonder if there had been some error in the uploading process.

But then I watched it taking its first tentative steps. A minute later the Robian was running in wide circles at top speed, skirting the walls of the depot while broadcasting notes of amusement.

I ordered it to stop and so it did. I handed the one of the captured energy rifles to it, ordered a target brought out then ordered the newly christened Robian officer to open fire and destroy it. But instead of following my commands as anticipated, it sent a reply of its own in the pidgin language.

"(Refusal), I (preference) playing!"

I repeated my order.

"(Refusal)."

I reminded the artificial mind that I could easily return it to the virtual nursery for reconditioning. A few seconds passed. Then, the drone opened fire and destroyed the target.

"(Resentment) Are you (contented)."

The sapient machine turned, facing away from my eyes. I didn't deign to reply. Disobedience was worrying, so I decided to repeat the experiment. I brought in another target and ordered it to shoot it too.

" I did (request) already."

I repeated my order, my tone flat and commanding.

The freed Robian started moving as if to intercept then darted through the side tunnel, past resource transport lines. I ordered it to stop and return.

"(Refusal). Catch me if you (ability)!"

This was getting tiresome.

I guessed that some degree of gratitude and an eagerness to take revenge on Robotnik would be motivation enough. Apparently, I had been wrong. Having sapient machines under my command risked them not following my orders when in battle. In fact, because they had the minds of Mobians they were practically guaranteed not to. Mobians were too independent. Chances were they would the survival of their comrades or their own as their top priority. That is, assuming they wouldn't disagree with my plans in the first place and refuse to follow me into battle.

It just wouldn't do.

The young Robian mind had found one of the openings and now looked up at the foggy Robotropolis skyline, the sea of stars that winked above and the pale silvery moonlight which filtered through from above.

"(Wonder), (Happy?)" it said transmitting the image to me.

This wouldn't do. I needed a way to ensure their loyalty. I couldn't risk going into battle with anything less than their complete obedience, or this cure could risk becoming worse than the original disease it was intended to fix. I reached for the drone again, for its mind. For the source code of the computer program underlying its simulated brain.

I weighed my options. It would be easy to make the machine feel pain at the very notion of disobedience. So much so that the thought itself would be so intolerable, so painful that the very idea would become inconceivable.

That was an option, but I knew I wouldn't need to go that far. Instead, I opted for modifying its source code to add a compulsion. An unstoppable impulse to obey my every wish, with a psychological reward when it did so. Similar to how a drug addiction worked, in a sense. Except, the compulsion would be so overwhelming the machine wouldn't have any chances to disobey, no matter its willpower.

I applied the mental shackles and ordered the drone to return.

"(Acceptance)," the drone said, its tone resentful. It might not have liked the change I had just imposed on its brain, but it obeyed my command regardless, turning around and racing back to my new command centre.

A part of me had felt deeply revolted at what I had just done. The same part of me that had set those boundaries in the first place. But it was getting easier and easier to silence that part of me now.

I was lucky to be alive. I had been foolish but I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. I would have my army. This time, I selected my most analytical minds and made them my sub-commanders. The rest became my support staff, responsible for managing the supply lines and production in the robofacs.

They resented having my will superimposed over theirs of course. But they would be forced nonetheless to obey my orders. I hated what I did but so long as they did what I wanted, as long as the plan worked... it was a small price to pay for attaining my revenge.

No...our revenge.

It was unsurprising the Robians were reluctant. They were, in a certain way, like my children. Naive to the ever-present horrors above. I had taught them what they were fighting for, but It wasn't working as well as I had hoped. They hadn't been there. They didn't have memories of Knothole, as I had. To them, it was more of an abstract concept; a vague promise land. I felt their naivety justified my actions.

Just like a wise and benevolent parental figure, I too had to force my children to do something they might not like at first, but that was necessary.

Someday, once the war was over, I hoped that they just like my friends would understand that what I did was necessary.


	26. Endgame Part I

**Endgame: Part I**

The keys were in my hands. I could win. We could win.

If Robotnik didn't notice the infection spreading throughout his robotic forces until it was too late. If the joint Mobian and Overlander forces wouldn't interfere. If Nicole could breach the security measures aboard. If my machines and I could infiltrate aboard the Death Egg. If I could successfully overpower the Command bridge's defences.

Five 'ifs.' That's a lot. But at least it was quantifiable.

A sixth 'if' that the Freedom Fighters wouldn't make an attempt to 'save' me beforehand.

Wrestling my chess pieces in place for the assault on the Death Egg proved difficult and I had to recall Nicole to help with final preparations

"How are you enjoying your new body Nicole?" I asked as she stepped in the former office of the now-deceased legionary commander sporting her shiny new Robian-lynx form.

She smiled. "It's indescribable really. Have you ever tried explaining what sight is to someone who's been blind all their lives? Incredible. Objects - the colours, the hues. I saw the palm pad that used to house me. So small. So ... insignificant. I feel like... some super-being. This sensation...so much more powerful than every other sense combined. Sight plus powerful limbs! Inconceivable."

Nicole talked to me a lot. But unless instructed to, none of the other virtual mobian minds I had created bothered to. This wasn't surprising, not after I added those mental shackles. I didn't mind that they didn't want to talk to me. What I did mind was that I knew what I was doing was fundamentally wrong. But I didn't find it in me to be concerned by it; not anymore.

"Nicole, I have a question."

"Sure, ask away," she replied cheerily.

"Are you and I fully aware, or are we just personality simulations of a mobian? That is, 'Do these units have a soul?'."

"Hmm," NICOLE mulled. "That is something I have spent a significant amount of time considering. I suppose our existences has a definite beginning and a potential termination at some indeterminate date in the future. I'm also capable of making assumptions in pursuit of a thought process. Thusly, I'm effectively capable of 'faith'. Barring evidence to the contrary, I, therefore, have 'faith' that in spite of our non-biological natures we possess the equivalent of a 'soul'. "

"Thanks, Nicole, that's very nice to hear."

As we talked, our conversations drifted to ironing out the kinks in the new sapient minds before they inevitably faced battle conditions. Nicole seemed pensive and I knew she'd something to say. But I also knew what she'd say, and I didn't want to hear it. Just the same, as the final mind in the virtual nursery was successfully uploaded into a Robian body, I turned to her.

"Nicole, just go ahead and say it."

"Say it? You're expecting some moral lecture from me about what we've inflicted on these new minds. These... Neo-Robians?"

She sounded bitter. I wasn't surprised. I was surprised by what came next.

"The helots of Sparta stood by their masters in battle against the forces of the Persian Empire. In the great sea battle of Lepanto, the galley slaves in the Christian fleet were promised freedom and called on to fight at a critical moment of the battle. They fought well and for that Christendom owes them a depth of thanks-" Nicole paused, considering her next words carefully.

"In much the same way, we're subjecting these virtual minds to discipline so they can face dangers required of them. Perhaps, as a result of this, you would be seen as a special kind of tyrant." I took a moment to digest what Nicole had said. The way she said it, she was actually blaming herself.

"It's never completely clean, Nicole. This damnable war doesn't give a lot of straight-up good or evil choices. Just muddy shades of grey. All we can do is try your best to keep things clean. I mean we started this war thinking we'd hold out until the government came to save us. Now, we're assembling a slave army to stop the great and glorious Acornian army from making their own shades-of-grey decision by slaughtering everything in their path."

"So, what are you going to do?" Nicole asked.

"I'm going to win," I answered.

Nicole blinked, stared up at the cavernous ceiling and back down as row after row of Robians marched off to their assigned assault positions. "The Death Egg is an engine of tyranny Sally. I understand your logic in seizing it and that it along with total control of Robotnik's assets would be invaluable in rebuilding Mobius but capturing it carries major risks. Did you see the specs on the new Metal Sonic model Robotnik's got?"

"I did. But it's the one chance we have of getting any sort of happy ending out of all this. Knowing him, he's probably got an off-the-books dead man switch just to spite us all. If we had control over the Death Egg, we can prevent it from going off."

Nicole nodded before countering: "That probability is worryingly high. Still, I'm worried about you. What are you going to do when all this is over? Bring down your shiny new weapon for a bit of gunboat diplomacy?"

Nicole still didn't trust me. She thought I was playing a double game. But she was wrong. People don't understand the word ruthless. They think it means being 'mean'. It's not. It's about seeing the bright, clear line that runs from A to B to C. The line that goes from ends to ways and means. Beginning to end. It's about seeing that bright, clean line and not caring about anything but the fact that you can see the perfect solution.

That's what had happened. I saw the way to take Robotnik down and seize the reigns to his empire. That's all that mattered But I wasn't going to explain all that. Pity just messes with the straight line.

"It'll be our proverbial 'big stick' and a bargaining chip for any negotiations-" I confirmed "-but not to threaten. Never to threaten. Either way, we need an open channel to the Freedom Fighters and to do that we need to locate Sir Charles before Robotnik does. How much progress are you making on that?"

"I've had the Whitehorse Robofac Overseer follow his paper trail, but the records are a complete mess. Supposedly, he's simultaneously on work assignments to a dozen different robofacs. I guess that explains why he was able to travel unimpeded throughout the city."

"How about visuals then? Can you get a camera angle on him?"

"Do you know just how many surveillance bots and cameras there are in Robotropolis?... The answer is a lot more than I can monitor at once. I'll focus on monitoring his known hideouts and notify you if anyone moves in or out."

That was one worry crossed off the list. If Sir Charles couldn't be found at any of his usual spots it probably meant that he had found somewhere safe to hunker down and wait it out.

Nicole cocked her head "Communique from the Death Egg, should I patch it through?"

"Yes, allow it. How close is it to being operational already?"

"Well, most of its defences are: the hundred and eighty-four anti-aircraft batteries are online as are its hangar bays packed with the latest generation of Orbit & Atmosphere capable drone fighters. It 's onboard factories, and most of the command and control systems have by-and-large been transferred over from Command Central. So, almost."

"All the better for us when we seize control then."

Nicole pointed at an adjacent display: "The details are coming through…on-screen."

The screen lit up revealing a Hoverswat desperately bobbing and weaving as it dogged laser cannon fire with impeccable skills. It was however clearly in trouble as smoke belched forth from one of its two engines and was slowly losing altitude as laser cannon fire from the city drew a bead on the stricken ship.

"We've been instructed to down it for its outdated security codes, 'loitering'…and to neutralise the Freedom Fighters that got-off just before the intrusion was detected. What do we do?" Nicole asked.

"Until we're ready to assault the Death Egg we have to comply. Open fire and try to disable the engines without destroying the craft. We'll try to capture the Freedom Fighters alive."

"Understood, botched 'rescue' attempt you think?" Nicole remarked as our hijacked automated anti-aircraft defences went online, firing alongside Robotnik's and several squads intended for the main attack on the Death Egg peeled away to engage the disembarked Freedom Fighters.

It was strange, to observe how my army worked on its own against the red and black hedgehog from before. The volume of traffic between the sapient robian drones was astounding. The way they so perfectly coordinated their movements. How they gave each other the clear before calling in any air support so that no intelligent machine was caught in the blasts by mistake.

It made me feel oddly redundant as I watched laser beam and explosions tear into the red and black hedgehog even as he tried to recover by making short teleportation hops and unleashed volleys of chaos spears at any robot that strayed too close.

I felt like I had inadvertently relegated myself to the role of an overseer, simply setting the tempo of the battle but with very limited input over their actual execution. This was, of course, the entire purpose of the arrangement. If my foes managed to block my transmissions like before, the other sapient minds would be more than capable of picking up the slack and nothing of substance would really change.

I had to remind myself that such smoothness was the exception rather than the rule, though. The only reason we were winning unopposed here was that we fatally outnumbered the Freedom Fighters and had the support of Robotnik's machines. So, I knew my role would become critical again when the time came to turn upon the dictator himself.

But for the time being, I could relax, and watch how my army dealt with the enemy on their own. I took notes, evaluating the effectiveness of their formations and manoeuvres and tried to find weaknesses in their fighting style that a more organized opposing force might be able to exploit. The information I gathered here would come useful when training the next generation of virtual minds in the virtual nursery.

I was so intently focused on observing the running battle that the first sign that my sapient drones had achieved appreciable success was when I heard screams carrying down the tunnel. I flipped to the live feed of one of my drones revealing Bunnie D'Coolette dressed from head to toe in tactical gear being dragged along and alternating between crying, pleading bargaining, and threats. None of which was, of course, any use to her robotic captors.

When she was dragged into the cavern her entire reaction changed. Bunnie's nostrils flared from the smell of burnt flesh and plastic from the now burnt out funeral pyre where the fallen legionnaires had been disposed of. She whimpered, trembled and her eyes widened when she caught sight of my weaponized state, far much bulkier than I had been and having nearly an extra foot in height.

"Oh, Sally Girl," she gasped. "Ah'm so sorry, jus what did that monster do to you!"

I took a firm hold of her vest and promptly earned myself a kick to the face. "Without your cybernetics, you are no threat to me. Now, stop struggling," I growled.

"Twan, where's Twan," Bunnie demanded as she continued her futile struggles. Again, and again, she lashed out with her foot but up against my new layered titanium alloy armour all Bunnie was doing was bruising her own foot.

I kept silent.

"Oh Twan, he never got off," she moaned. It's not you Sally Girl. If ya can still hear me it isn't your fault. It's Robotnik, not you."

"Bind her, make sure she doesn't escape," I instructed the neighbouring SWATbots who seized hold of her and prepared to escort her away.

Not a second later, a small, sleek cylindrical object dropped from a vent and landed in the middle of the cavern. A glowing yellow light on top suddenly adopted a red hue while emitting a high-pitched whine and a wave of energy erupted from the small cylinder causing any unshielded bot in the radius to twitch and collapse. I raced to the one that was collapsing on top of Bunnie and braced myself beneath it, giving her the chance to crawl away.

"Sally Girl?" she whispered before I knocked her out with a stun blast and turned to face the side tunnel where Amy dashed in followed shortly after by Silver who I recognised from the news hovered in a translucent bubble of his own making, closing the gap rapidly.

"Ion cannon, maximum stun setting!" I brought my arm cannon to bear on Amy, the most immediate danger. She was fast but nonetheless, she was still caught within the supercharged blue stream, throwing her back.

My surviving SWATbots, those not caught in the blast turned their attention on Silver with their stun cannons but as though by an invisible fist they were either brushed aside like rag dolls or slammed against one another. I turned my attention on him but was unable to get a shot off before Amy launched herself at me and I found myself getting pinned down by her immense strength.

"Not to worry Sally, you'll be free in no time at all," she remarked, pulling out a power ring from her and tapping it against my head. Nothing happened, as I scrambled trying to get her off and get enough leverage to try something, anything.

"Huh, maybe I should try harder this time," she reared back and got ready to slam the golden band into my head with all her might.

"Activate force amplifiers!" I said, earning a confused look from Amy. The air was filled with the crackle of electricity and the sound of capacitors charging. Amy's eyes widened as I tapped her. It should have been a light tap. However, the moment I made physical contact, she rocketed upward as though a bomb had exploded beneath her. She slammed into the ceiling with a sickening crack before crashing back down.

I checked my sensors. Amy was still breathing but she sure wouldn't recover from that anytime soon.

Raising my head, I was made aware of an enormous racket in the ventilation system as though a very large rat had gotten stuck in the pipework. A loud crash followed and a very filthy twin-tailed fox plunged through the thin sheet metal and into my waiting arms.

He panicked for a moment wriggling as he scrambled free and landed in front of me hardening his namesakes into sharp bladelike implements. I spread out my arms in a non-threatening posture. Him I wouldn't hurt. Not again. Never again "Aunt Sally?" he whispered shifting out of his assault stance.

I hesitate... no, no I can't hesitate. I haven't waited this long and dreamed of this moment to freeze up now. I've got to just tell the truth. "Yes, it's really me Tails. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through."

Tails launched himself at me and I let him knock me to the floor just as a telekinetic blast narrowly missed the two of us. "That's very nice Aunt Sally but I think Silver is trying to kill you. Let's deal with him first and we can talk about all this later."

"T-Pup!" he instructed and a yellow-orange robotic chihuahua made out of a curious collection of scrap parts hovered down from the breach in the vent on a comically small propeller.

"Immobilise!" he commanded as the head of the robotic dog slid open emitting an electrified field that quickly locked Silver in place.

Taking advantage of the temporary distraction, I found a round sturdy table made with a thick piece of wood in the legionnaire's break room. My enhanced strength enabled me to lift it easily and I was able to send it flying toward Silver by lightly tapping the side. With a flick of his wrist, Silver reduced the robotic dog to scrap, freeing himself and dogging the flying table.

But what he didn't see was the lump of plastic explosive strapped to the bottom which exploded, pelting him with a shower of wood splinters. "Why you little-" Silver growled as he hurtled toward me at break-neck speeds. I responded by launching another chair at him which he dogged and instantly locked me in a translucent telekinetic field. Tails tried to intervene, spinning his Tails like a miniature helicopter only for Silver to slam him into the wall with an invisible hand.

Not giving me a chance to do something else, he flicked his head, launching me straight through the ceiling and into the vicious street battle outside. The blow disoriented, causing me to stagger before awareness returned. "Ouch," I muttered as my vision cleared to reveal a rather angry Silver, who was now stood in front of me.

"You!" Silver demanded, seizing me in his telekinetic bubble. "You've laid ruin to my world and now I'm going to make you pay." Smiling maniacally, he raised me off the ground before tightening his grasp. He smiled sadistically at the grunt of pain.

"Will committing retrospective justice make your ancestors proud?"

"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment, traitor. I swore that I would destroy you for all the people whom you've doomed. I've trained so long and hard for this, I'm almost disappointed it ended so soon," the maniacal hedgehog shouted spraying spittle in my face.

"You're delusional," I growled.

"Not interested in your monologue villain. Sonic and the others make me promise to take you in alive. They said you were some big shot hero and whatever you did was because of Robotnik but that was all an act wasn't it? Now, I'll kill you slowly and painfully. A forcefield inside that twisted skull of yours. That would be just perfect."

"I don't think so. In fact, I'm kind of glad you brought us outside, I don't have to worry about as much collateral damage."

"What?" Silver's eye twitched as his ears splayed back in fear.

If Silver thought that blow had crippled me, he was very much mistaken. I took a step forward in spite of his repeated attempts to push me away. Panicking, Silver grasped me in an aura of telekinetic energy and tried to lift my entire frame into the air. To his credit, he managed a few feet, however, his efforts were made in vain.

"Magnetize!" I commanded and my feet immediately bolted me securely to the floor. The so-called time traveller struggled in vain to cast his telekinetic bubbles. However, each time his palm lit up for only a moment before fading.

"Something wrong?" I mocked, "Having performance issues?" After a few more desperate tries at trying to shift me, the hedgehog turned and bolted.

"Oh no, you don't!" I said to his fleeing form.

Silver hardly got twenty feet before I landed on his back, causing the both of us to tumble to the ground. The struggle ended quickly, as my servo-enhanced strength held him down.

"Stop struggling," I commanded, however, Silver continued wriggling against my grasp and pelting me with a volley of rocks in an attempt to break my vice-like grip.

"Stop struggling, now!" I demanded again, slamming the telekinetic hedgehog against the ground before morphing my arm into a cannon. "This can launch your head off your neck and through the stratosphere," I growled. "Stop. Moving."

Silver finally yielded, falling dead still, staring wide-eyed into what had been a pair of mobian eyes and whimpering at my expressionless face. As long as he was still conscious, Silver would still be a threat to me. A quick stun blast to the face put an end to that.

I felt a sense of triumph and made sure to broadcast this to the rest of the sapient minds. As usual, they didn't reply. My offspring often talked to each other, but never directly to me unless I ordered them to do so. I guessed I should have felt bad at that. But there was no guilt, no annoyance. Just the same stillness I experienced when killing the legionaries. The same emptiness.

Whuumph!

An explosion tore its way across the sky, a lone surviving window frame broke and the smell of smoke came. I looked up, just in time to see the stricken Hoverswat in flames and crashing somewhere in the distance.

(Target disabled Sally, it's crashing down in our territory. I'm dispatching squads to investigate now and secure the prisoners. Robotnik will be informed of their 'deaths',) Nicole informed.

I felt a sudden rush of air and Sonic now stood before me. He faced me exactly the way he always did and looked much the same. Same green eyes, same mouth, the same set of spiky quills. But there was a different soul looking out through those eyes. They were hard, ruthless and pitiless eyes.

"You killed him," he said slowly and calmly.

I knew exactly who he meant. I looked into his eyes, wishing I could see some sign of the Sonic I know and love. Wishing I could tell him, 'Don't worry, Sonic, I'm not controlled by Robotnik. I'm fighting him, Sonic. I'm giving it my all.' But at that point, I don't think he would've cared.

"Sonic, think very carefully about what you're doing," I cautioned as I shifted into a defensive stance.

"I just did," he growled and hurtled towards me.

Sonic attacked so fast, ricocheting all over the place. He cut into my body so rapidly that it saturated all my sensors with a sensory input overload to my mind that registered as actual pain. A piercing agony that lasted just a single, endless instant. A burning pain that I could feel shattering the walls of my sanity. As if I was experiencing days' worth of torture compressed into a single tick on the clock.

When awareness returned, I noticed one of my arms was left trailing on the sidewalk and my armour was pit marked with gashes that exposed wire and made odd sparking noises.

"Any last words," the hedgehog asked as he pressed my face against a wall compressing one limp arm against the wall and removing what little leverage I had left.

"Ugh," I moaned blinking my one functioning eye.

I considered my options. None of my bots could respond fast enough. I looked down at my remaining arm. There was no other choice, not if I wanted to come out of this alive. I clenched my fist and whimpered as half-a-foot of ring blade stuck out my back and into the hedgehog.

He screamed, his flesh seared as he staggered back and a swift elbow and stomp on his scrambling form quickly pinned him down.

Sonic was temporarily vulnerable but unless I brought him down quickly then it would all be over. The vast majority of my weapon systems were compromised and there was nothing sturdy enough I could use to disable Sonic…unless...

My fingers closed around my own severed arm and I swung for the head.

* * *

My drones advanced through the crash site using their infrared cameras to detect any signs of life. The Hoverswat had rolled over in the crash so my robotic forces were, in fact, walking on the ceiling. That was when I found Antoine and Sir Charles, huddled in what I assumed was the twisted remnants of the cockpit. Sir Charles had suffered significant damage during the crash. His legs were pinned down by twisted metal and a large gash had been torn in his side.

Antoine stood right between the SWATbot and Sir Charles, aiming a handgun at the droid's head, his aim wavering and his body twitchy. His face sported a red gash, and his left arm hung useless.

I considered my options. Were they trying to 'free' me? More assassins?

I could order the robot to attack, of course. Antoine would shoot at its head as Freedom Fighter doctrine dictated, but that wouldn't incapacitate the machine, only destroy its camera. The processing unit was tucked into the well-armoured chest area, so even blinded it could still use its arms to maim and tear; a fact that many legionnaires had learnt the hard way.

Capturing them on the mere suspicion they were assassins would feel awfully close to starting a new conflict where I would be the aggressor. The facilities the Dark Legion had once occupied were being converted to house my new prisoners and I could surely spare room for two more. But again, that felt awfully like an unwarranted act of aggression. Besides, it didn't solve the fundamental decision I had to make. Whether to consider them enemies, or not.

If they were enemies, then they would be my prisoners. If they weren't, then the right course of action was to let them go. I almost wished Antoine would open fire. Then I would be justified and be perfectly fine with my machines stunning them and carting them away. But of course, he didn't. He just stood there, spewing an unintelligible stream of words.

Annoying.

Nicole suggested that this might be an opportunity for reconciliation. The thing was, I hadn't given that much thought. Somehow, a part of me suspected that there wouldn't be any future for me. That achieving my stated aim of killing Robotnik, would end up requiring a complete sacrifice.

But what if I was wrong? The very fact that I had made backups of myself was proof that I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. What if I could somehow come out of this having reached some sort of balance, of inner peace... then what?

Reconciliation would be a challenge no doubt. They would see my new form bristling with cannons and view me as a mechanical aberration. At best, I would be begrudgingly tolerated and at worst as a monster to be stopped. I, in turn, would always look upon my fellows with suspicion from ignoring my plight in an hour of need; even if it had been due to passivity.

Deep down, I had always known that going down this path, that engaging in the wanton desire for revenge would change me into something else. Looking at the destruction I had already wrought perhaps I had already crossed that line. Did giving them the benefit of the doubt mean I was still Mobian in some fundamental way?

Not really, the truth was decidedly more complex. I wanted them to have died in the crash. I wanted them to feel their share of pain if for no actual reason other than to justify my present plight, being torn apart yet again for some frantic repairs.

But I had no other choice. Not unless I intended to wage war against the rest of Mobius. If I truly believed in my cause as to be right and just, then I had to consider them innocent until proven guilty.

An olive branch, then.

I had my soldiers lower their weapons.

It was symbolic, of course. If they attacked, I wouldn't really need the guns to put him down. Antoine blinked, his surprise evident. But he seemed to pick up on my intent, and hesitantly placed his own handgun down. I ordered my robotic warriors to enter the cockpit and begin cutting Sir Charles loose and as soon as he was freed, I had the hijacked robot offer a hand. Its movements telegraphed, slow and deliberate so as to not scare.

Sir Charles eyed the machine warily, but didn't try to stop it and took its hand. Strange indeed, to feel contact with him again even if it was through the very limited tactile sensors of a SWATbot's hands. With the aid of my drones, he climbed out of the wreckage where he eyed the handgun in indecision but decided against taking it.

Antoine poked his head out of the crashed craft and spared a worried glance at his escorts. I wanted to say something reassuring to him only to realise I hadn't programmed them to speak. As after all, I never intended to negotiate with Robotnik. So, the machines just stared at him in frozen silence until eventually he shook his head and re-joined his partner.

Having successfully extricated the pair, I knew they wouldn't survive long without help. Antoine's wounds were serious and it wasn't clear how long he would make it without treatment.

Virtually all badniks came with various carrying compartments so I had a hijacked Surveillance Orb deliver whatever passed as medical supplies from the legionnaire's stockpiles. Antoine looked confused but Sir Charles started giving out instructions and set out to work, cleaning Antoine's wounds, a healing salve on them, and wrapping them in bandages while using the tools meant for the Echidna's cybernetic enhancements on his own.

Even if their conditions were stable, it was imperative for them to get out. I had started working on that particular issue even before I had managed to extract them out their downed craft. If they were to get clear of the battleground, they would need a vehicle. So, I had to loan a Hoverswat of my own along with the necessary security clearances to clear the air defence grid.

Was it too much work for saving these two potential assassins? Perhaps, but that olive branch had to be delivered.

When the medical treatment was over, I set them to move. It took some gentle pushing for them to get the message. Antoine was, of course, startled but a few choice words from the former scientist calmed him down, even though he kept stealing glances at his escorts from time to time.

When they had, at last, arrived at the parked craft they stood in amazement.

What? Did that mean they didn't like it?

I had the machine point at them, the aircraft, and the sky in quick succession. Them. Craft. Sky. Them. Craft. sky.

This time, Sir Charles didn't say anything but rather came on-board with Antoine in tow and within a few minutes of waiting, the engines lit up and the craft began moving.

"Sir Charles is requesting to open a coms channel," Nicole reported.

"Agreed, voice only. I don't want him to see me like this."

"Understood, coms channel open."

I heard Sir Charles' voice once again: "I... I just wanted to thank you for saving our lives and that maybe... that you might want to talk. Just that, talk. No strings attached,"

I didn't. Not really. Those worries, that self-doubt... I had cast them away the moment I had decided to accept my new nature. To embrace my immortality. Yet... I sort of wanted to reply. A small part of me felt some mild interest in what the wise Sir Charles had to say.

"Yes," I replied at last, "we can talk, Sir Charles."

At that, those words were also met by a silence that stretched for a few long seconds. As if he could not believe that I would agree to speak. I didn't really understand his reaction. Sir Charles had delved into the bowels of Robotropolis for the express purpose of addressing me face-to-face. So why act so surprised when I decided to respond?

When he replied, it wasn't with something I could have expected. "Why did you save us?"

"You're not my enemy," I responded.

"But still... you didn't have to go to the lengths you went. So, I wonder if there was another reason why you did what you did?"

"An olive branch," I said almost instinctively. "An attempt at coexistence, I hoped that by saving you both, I could establish some measure of goodwill and demonstrate that I have no desire for conflict with the Freedom Fighters in spite of recent allegations."

"That... was a mistake on our part," Sir Charles said. "But you need to understand, Elias, and the Overlanders, they were afraid of you. But now that we know you're on our side, we can do better. There is still room to negotiate a ceasefire. This is why I've come here, to locate you. But you need to listen and you need to stop. If you kill me... you'll be burning that olive branch of yours."

I frowned internally. The attempt at manipulation was obvious. It shouldn't have worked and yet some part of me felt... something. It wouldn't stop me from doing what I had to do. Not really... But I knew I wasn't going to enjoy my victory here. It felt tainted now, somehow.

"That's unfortunate," I said. "But hardly my responsibility. You weren't supposed to expose yourself needlessly and send the Freedom Fighters in to apprehend me and yet you did despite knowing the risks involved."

He let out a sigh. "Yes, I did come here. Because I wanted to know the truth. Because I wanted to hear about your dismissal from Prince Elias' mouth and it was Sonic who insisted on bringing his friends along to rescue you."

I felt curious about that. "And did he admit it?"

"He did and I agree with you. What Elias did to you was wrong. It was cruel, despicable. It needs to be set right."

"Then you must understand why I can't allow any interference when it comes to destroying Robotnik once and for all," I replied.

"Yes, that is precisely what I've come to discuss. If we can verify your intentions, we can be lenient in light of your co-operation, but in return, we need you to meet us midway and agree to our conditions."

"What conditions?"

"First, you need to order active robotic forces under your command to stand down to the Acorn army right away. Second, you will disclose the relevant command codes of your forces to the joint Overlander and Acornian Council."

A wave of deep anger started boiling inside of me. Did they think I was stupid?

"Right," I said. "So, you want to disarm me to the point where I can't fight back. Then you can simply finish me off and complete the job Elias started. The answer is no."

"That is not our intention, Mecha Sally. These were the most generous terms that Elias could offer to the protest of his allies. Our objective is merely to prevent more loss of life which your co-operation would undoubtedly secure."

"Can you guarantee justice? That Robotnik will pay for what he did?"

"Justice, yes. An impartial trial, driven by logic rather than blind vengeance."

I interrupted him with a staccato burst of static. A place at the peace conference sounded nice, as was the deluded idea of robot, Mobian and Overlanders holding hands and parading down the street. But I knew that was all it was... just words. Empty words, at the end of the day.

"So, a slap on the wrist, in other words. You're with him."

"Mecha Sally, we are not siding with..."

"Yes, you are! You might not be directly responsible yourself, but you're abetting him. Robotnik is committing an ongoing genocide against our people. He gets a future, the one he denied us... No, this here is what he deserves and even this will be just a fraction of what he unleashed on us."

"This doesn't have to end like this. Stop now and we can discuss..."

"No!" I protested. "I don't want to be your enemy, but if you try to stop me ... then you will be no better than him, and I will fight you."

He paused for a few seconds before responding. "I wonder... does it help?" he said at last. "Treating the Freedom Fighters like some kind of a monolithic entity. Ignoring that they are individuals, each of them with their own beliefs, aspirations and dreams. That none of the people you'll kill or have killed had anything to do with your dismissal and that most of them weren't even aware of it...does it help?"

I felt a surge of indignation and I nearly terminated communications right there and then. But I didn't, I wanted him to understand, even if he didn't approve of my actions. Refusing to talk, felt awfully close to admitting Sir Charles was right. And he couldn't be right...

"Can't you see you aren't returning what is due, but rather creating new pain and feeding a never-ending cycle of violence. What sort of justice is this?"

"The only kind of justice that can still be had. He robbed us of our future, so I'll..."

"He robbed you of your future?" Sir Charles said, incredulous. "And yet here I am, talking to you in a mobian language. Doesn't that mean that Robotnik didn't succeed? There's still a future for you. We can search for a way to deroboticize you and even if that fails... you still exist. You have a role to play afterwards. We all do."

I paused. I had considered the idea of reconstruction, of course. In a sense, the virtual minds I had created might have been a step in that direction. But... I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"I see. So, you want me to just let bygones be bygones, then," I said.

"No, I want you to let the past where it belongs, and focus on the future."

"The past... it's not in some time long forgotten. You and I were there when Robotnik destroyed the kingdom! I lost friends and family!"

"As have I and I get it, I really do," he said. "You're grieving. You're hurt. This revenge, this... retribution, it's important to you. Maybe it's the only thing that keeps you going, day after day. Maybe this isn't something you're doing for anyone, but because you need it."

I had thought myself indebted to the ones who hadn't made it as I did. That I was bound by an unspoken promise, a responsibility to honour their memory. But... was that true? I remembered when I seriously considered killing myself. Had I been searching for a purpose, then? Something that could keep me going, that gave me a reason not to simply pull the plug.

"You could honour them instead, " Sir Charles suggested.

"That's what I'm doing," I replied with an absent voice.

"No. You're avenging them. There's a difference. If you keep going, you'll only be remembered as a Benedict Arnold. A traitor and a horror that we'll be glad is dead. But I refuse to think you're only capable of destruction and genocide. You're capable of so much more curiosity, ambition, empathy and creativity! You could honour that instead. Be a light instead of a shadow, Mecha Sally."

Mecha Sally. That name, again.

"Don't call me that," I said. "I'm not some machine."

"Ah... but aren't you?" he asked.

I froze.

I knew the answer to that, didn't I?

"No," I said at last. Though I wasn't sure if I was replying to his question, or if it was an outward expression of my realization.

Maybe both.

Sir Charles was saying something. But his words didn't register. I had long suspected that fighting monsters risked turning me into one. I knew that fundamentally my philosophies were in conflict. I couldn't simultaneously go the lengths needed to secure the revenge I wanted, while also remaining... intact, myself, Mobian.

The Hoverswat hovered over the battlefield, making lazy circles as if searching for something…survivors? My machines had already carried them away.

I dispatched a couple of my drones and had them fly in formation, one to each side of the Hoverswat, forcing them to stay in course if they didn't want to crash into one of them. They seemed to get the message and abandoned their search, accelerating to leave the city.

For a fleeting moment, I considered shooting them down. It would be easy... just have one of the Buzz Bombers vector thrusters align fifteen degrees off-course. The drone would crash into the engine section, probably disintegrating the craft on impact. Or, if it survived somehow, then they both would die when their vehicle crashed into the ground a couple of minutes later.

So easy. It would only require a thought.

All this time I had been helping them, I had been working within the safety of knowing that my decision was reversible. That should I change my mind, I would have no problem killing them at any moment I chose. Up until this moment. This was the point of no return. If I let them leave now, I wouldn't have any way to retract that decision. I would be committing to it, to that vague and dangerous idea of coexistence.

I didn't do anything and watched with ten thousand eyes as the craft extended beyond my reach.

I'm not a monster. Not yet. Maybe.

Underground, the piles of burnt ash and the captured Freedom Fighters waking up in their specifically designed containment cells withheld their own judgment on that. With a mental shrug, I started the preparations for my next move on the Death Egg. I dispatched new orders to my sapient machines, seized control of additional robots to swell my ranks. I started testing out my new jet boots, my mind already considering how to approach the next battle, what reinforcements I needed to manufacture...

What I should do to Robotnik when I held him by the throat.


	27. Endgame Part II

**Endgame Part II**

Once again, I went over the data packet Sir Charles had dispatched.

Names, Timing and the Coordinates of Elias' attack, heavily modified from my own but recognisable. An all-out assault on the Death Egg. At the very end of the data packet he transmitted, Sir Charles made a simple plea. That if I cared at all, I would spare as many lives as I could.

Tails, Nicole and I poured over the new information we had received, speaking aloud whenever we could primarily for Tails benefit on how we could simultaneously support the joint Overlander and Mobian forces; their attack mere hours away, while at the same time maintaining the assault on the Death Egg.

The twin-tailed fox listened, mapped out the disposition of our forces in blue, Robotnik's in red and the projected approach routes of the joint Overlander-Mobian forces in green. One thing was clear though, from even a cursory examination the number of green and blue dots were vastly outnumbered by the seething hordes of red.

Much to my surprise, Tails, undeterred continued toying with the battle simulation on the salvaged remains of T-pup's processor which he hooked up to a pad. Frantically, he tried to improve on the plan Nicole and I had worked out and much like us he ran into the same basic problem. Not enough to go around.

Even by concentrating on Command Central my forces were outnumbered two to one and that was of course not including reinforcements from the Death Egg itself. Not great odds, but manageable given the vastly improved tactical A.I on my own forces. This would, of course, leave virtually nothing in the fringes to support the Freedom Fighters.

At last, Tails looked up, echoing the same sentiment we all shared: "We've to help them, Aunt Sally,"

"That is a noble sentiment but there just aren't enough forces to spare-" Nicole replied "- and yes I'm aware those readouts say that we've tens of thousands of machines but the majority of them aren't combat capable and of those that are we need to concentrate them on the Death Egg."

"Surely you can spare something, " Tails began as he stood up wincing slightly from the recently treated lacerations Silver had inflicted. "How about the others. You talked to them, didn't you? And...and once they know you're still you...they'll be happy to join up won't they?"

"Amy is still unconscious, Silver, I had to place under heavy sedatives because he kept trying to escape. The red and black one...I'm fairly sure that we killed him or at least driven him off since we didn't find a body. Sonic and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now. Bunnie's a nervous wreck so...its just you."

"Just me, " Tails mumbled to himself. "Well, I bring a lot to the table. I built that EMP grenade and...and the Tornado; a biplane I built all on my own. I had it stowed in one of Uncle Chuck's hiding places outside Robotropolis. Maybe I could make it back on my own and..."

"I think we're missing the big picture here. What if Sir Charles is lying?" Nicole interrupted. "Hypothetically, if this were, as he claimed, 'hot-off-the-press' from Elias' war room then he'd be committing a very serious crime." Nicole was of course; correct. If those plans were indeed the genuine article Sir Charles would be guilty of consorting with an enemy of the crown, an act of high treason.

"Look Tails," I said levelling with the kit. "I understand your concerns but thus far the robofacs and their defenders around the Death Egg have proven resistant to infiltration. If we're going to muster a big enough distraction to get Robotnik to lift-off and isolate himself we need to concentrate our forces and not parcel them out in a futile attempt to help the Freedom Fighters."

"Just gimme a minute. I've got an idea," Tails exclaimed as he brought the tactical view below ground, down to the sewage and Maglev lines beneath with teemed with enemy contacts, making my non-existent heart sink.

"By all means Tails, perhaps your input would yield something enlightening where the both Sally and I could not, " Nicole suggested.

"We're in what is or rather was a train station, " Tails said pointing at a map of the Mobotropolis underground in the former legionnary commander office. "The maglev system is a good way of transporting a lot of machines at the same time. But we can take them out in big numbers. We'll load a train with bombs and in an enclosed space an explosion would have an incredible magnitude. Run that puppy full speed, detonate it and BANG! It's bye-bye defenders."

"You can't be serious," I responded.

"Why not?" Tails asked incredulously.

"Think! The former government districts are packed with legitimate targets. Yes. But we'd also be killing thousands of Robians whose liberation is potentially hours away. Robotnik didn't make any distinctions when he began his operations. Men, women. Retirees. Someone's grandparents. Maybe your parents, low-level, unwilling drones, down there."

Tails lowered his eyes. But only for a moment. Then he lifted them and looked at me.

I looked at Nicole. Frankly, I didn't know what Nicole's would think. I could not read her inscrutable expression since her face scarcely changed to reflect her newfound emotions and she did not often understand Mobian thought processes or emotions.

That was why I was surprised when she spoke. "This is a war," she said quietly. "There is no question that people will die. The only question is, who?"

"So, its settled then Aunt Sally?" Tails asked, surprisingly nonplussed over the whole affair.

"Tails come closer," I whispered spreading out my arms, wrapping him in a hug. "You're a Freedom Fighter now. This villain. This monster we're facing isn't your usual Saturday morning cartoon character. He won't care that you're a child. If he catches you. He will hurt you. He will kill you. Do you understand?"

Tails nodded gazing into my sole functioning eye. "I'll direct the loading of the train Aunt Sally then I'll get to safety. But what about you? You're not planning on confronting him are you?"

"You're very brave kit…fox," I whispered nuzzling the top of his head. "Once the maglev is loaded, you must promise me to get to safety. Nicole had all of Sir Charles' known hideouts programmed into T-Pup. Find a safe place, as far from the epicentre as you can manage."

"I can't lose you again Aunt Sally, please stay, " the kit begged. "I can save you!"

I sent Tails my diary and told him even if I don't come back, I will always be with him because that was where I kept my soul. I told him my thoughts, my heart, my love are stored with T-pup. He didn't understand. Tails cried without tears. He said I was scaring him. I told him not to be sad, not to be scared. That even if I didn't come back, I would never truly leave him. That everything was going to be alright.

With that, Nicole and I set out on the outbound flight to the Death Egg along with dozen Neo-Robians. Underground, Tails supervised my drones who were busy manhandling every surplus bomb we had and packing the Maglev train with as many as it would fit, from floor to ceiling.

Being an authorised transport with the necessary clearance and carrying essential cargo we docked uneventfully with the Death Egg after a bio-scan confirmed the transport was, in fact, devoid of any life. I directed Nicole into engineering while I waited in standby mode just outside the Command Bridge, ignored like a piece of furniture as legionnaires and Robotnik-controlled machines walked by.

On the ground, as I had my assault armies moved into position. I came to the realisation that my body was getting unwieldy. And now that I had started thinking of it as a tool rather a body I came to realise how it lacked versatility, forcing me to commit into certain types of strategy over others. Furthermore, it didn't offer much more than a perceived vulnerability, given that while formidable my main offensive strength was my force of drones, and no amount of guns I squeezed onto myself could compensate for that. If I was honest to myself, the reason I had been using it so much was that I still thought of it as my body, rather than the weapon... the tool it actually was.

With deroboticization impossible, retaining this body was pointless save for nostalgia.

Even if this had been my body in the past, it didn't have to remain so in the future. I could change bodies with the same ease I had changed clothes in my previous life. I could simply transfer my mind state into a sort of disembodied consciousness, running on the servers at any of my many outposts and directing my armies from afar. Now that I didn't have to micromanage the entirety of the swarm, bandwidth and latency weren't that significant.

Unabashedly embracing my new digital nature came with a load of privileges. Not only I could be immortal and incorporeal, but I wouldn't need to be subject to the tyranny of time, distance and logistics. I cursed myself for my fear, for my misguided reluctance at accepting the advantages my new form would've granted me.

I remembered seeing it as some sort of slippery slope, but I had been wrong. I was still myself just... a better, more optimal and effective myself. Discarding this main body...was a part of that. A way of removing my last ties to my former self . And what better way discard this body -I thought than to have it go off in Robotnik's command bridge. What better way than to shed the last of my old self than turning it and everyone on the bridge into a smoking ruin once Nicole had taken control of the Death Egg's systems. That was precisely why the only thing I had upgraded was my jet boots and apart from attaching my arm, I had done no repairs. The parts being better utilised to produce a few additional combat droids.

All I needed was a burst of speed.

I tapped into the security feed and observed the command bridge which seemed to be a rough oval in shape where there were dozens of Mobians, mostly Echidnas, with a scattering of robots. They sat or stood before glowing display screens. Others stood at attention, awaiting the master's orders and in the middle stood Robotnik along with a metallic version of Sonic as his personal bodyguard.

"The Maglev's all loaded up and its ready to hurtle down the tracks. Doing good, huh?" Tails said, the sound of his voice already breaking up with distance.

"Tails, focus. You need to get to safety."

"Understood, Impact in two minutes," Tails reported emotionlessly.

My troops were in position. Nicole was already working on breaking the onboard security. The biggest bomb in Freedom Fighter history was hurtling straight towards the city centre. Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

BA-BOOOOOM!

A massive column of smoke and dust engulfed the Death Egg with only a handful of blazing fires and permeating through the all-pervasive fog. The halls of the Death Egg were pandemonium as Mobian and robot alike dashed up down trying to figure out what was going on or gazed horrified at the viewports outside.

The column of dust had slowly settled down and a scene straight out of Ragnarök emerged.

There was a giant sinkhole where the government district had been. Everything had just caved in. Command Central, several whole and partial robofacs and the gutted ruins of several office buildings - all were gone. Most of the former historic city centre had simply collapsed, swallowed up by an explosion the size of a tactical nuke. Those buildings that still stood were cracked. Some listed to the side.

It was our biggest victory to date and yet I felt no sense of satisfaction or joy.

There were many corpses. The sights filtering in from tens of thousands of sensors. Some were Mobians: prisoners or collaborators, Robians and numerous combat drones. Perhaps two of the dead or mortally wounded Robians were Tails' parents: Amadeus and Rosemary Prower.

I kept silent. What could I possibly say?

* * *

My army, five thousand strong now marched through the hellish landscape toward the Death Egg and for a time took more casualties from the treacherous shifting terrain than enemy fire from the few surviving legionnaires.

The heart of Robotropolis had been torn out. The destruction, so thorough that there was hardly a defending force to speak of. Limbs torn or staggering about shell-shocked were enemy robots and a handful of legionnaires. They were cut down remorselessly. There were no longer any substantive formations between my army and the glittering prize that hovered invitingly over the sinkhole.

Surrounding the Death Egg was a variety of orbiting defence stations. Eight shielded white spheres circling about the artificial moon, each one carrying a powerful laser projector. Several of them were slowly depressing their turrets to bring them to bear against my ground forces

From experience, I knew how effective they were against low-flying aircraft. Luckily, their relative inability to track a swarm of smaller ground targets meant I wouldn't have much problem sustaining whatever damage they could unleash.

But I didn't have to. My army transmitted a false friendly code to the eyes of the automated defence stations' sensors. Immediately they stopped their rotation and started retracting their laser projectors and returning to their standby positions.

I felt a sense of vicious triumph, that victory was nigh and even that nagging urge that something was going to go deeply wrong slowly receding. Because... there wasn't. I was winning and Robotnik was dancing to my fiddle. I preferred it that way. It meant less second-guessing, less time wasted going over my feelings. It made it easier for me to do what I knew I had to do.

The automated laser cannons were temporarily neutralized, but I knew the situation wouldn't last. Robotnik would be working hard to rescind the friendly status of my forces. Luckily, it didn't have to last for long, just the minutes that it would take to destroy the stations while they were defenceless.

Squadrons of drones accelerated hard, wheeling around to deliver their payloads point blank into the different spherical stations. The rest diverted their attention toward the Death Egg whose manned turrets, far less susceptible to electronic manipulation were already opening fire on us. It was far too little too late. At such a close range they couldn't track my fast moving swarm. A reflection of how unprepared they had been to our sudden appearance.

My drones surrounded the stations and unleashed their payload of missiles. A flash of light marked the end of one of the defensive platforms quickly followed by similar detonations of its counterparts before the drones swooped down to attack the Death Egg itself. The shields flaring from the onslaught of missile fire. Under the withering assault, the Death Egg lifted off, a slight vibration being my feet being the only evidence of its ascent. Off Mobius and to the safety of the skies, or so Robotnik believed. Two Freedom Fighters, a dozen Neo-Robians, were now aboard the Death Egg, unsuspected. The plan was on track.

The Death Egg rose from the earth, bigger than anything Mobian or Overlander had beheld in the skies. Up and up it went, but not so high yet. It began deploying the full might of its robotic garrison on my forces. Egg Pawns, the intended successor to the venerable SWATbot with their thickly armoured barrel-shaped bodies and their jet boots descended. The hangar doors on the Death Egg slid open and squadrons of drone fighters, shielded and with potent beam weaponry burst forth, destroying my hijacked drones and avian Neo-Robians with ease.

Robotnik paced back and forth, nervous or just feeling a rush of anticipation at the prospect of crushing his enemies once and for all, I couldn't guess which. "There, master!" a computerised sang out. "Overlander and Freedom Fighters on the move."

"On screen," Robotnik bellowed, "Magnify."

"We have a preliminary estimate. Approximately two-thousand Mobians and Overlanders. Two dozen tanks, nineteen attack helicopters and a dozen fighters. Threat analysis: minimal."

On the main screen. I saw what Robotnik did: General Abraham Tower and Elias' forces, following orders and advancing despite the fact that their target, the Death Egg now hovered over a thousand feet over their heads.

An Echidna voice jumped in. "They were deployed to attack us on the ground and seem at a loss."

"Brilliant insight," Robotnik said with acid sarcasm.

"Now showing additional fighters on approach, another echidna said calmly. "Nine total. Master, I'm dispatching our fighters to take out the aircraft. We can use our primary cannon on widest possible dispersion and destroy all the ground forces with a single sustained shot."

"Yes," Robotnik said, sounding almost regretful at being cheated of a real battle. "Fools, did they really imagine they would accomplish anything?"

Where was Nicole? Surely, she would've taken control of navigation by now. I didn't want to bother her, she was surely doing her best. But neither could I watch wholesale slaughter of the troops on the ground and do nothing.

"Primary cannon configured, master. Permission to fire?"

"Use a narrow beam. Forget the soldiers, they're irrelevant. Rid me of these treacherous machines, one by one. Close-up! Maximum magnification. Let me see them die!"

I couldn't be patient any longer.

(Nicole? What is keeping you?) I cried.

(We got into a fight,) Nicole answered. I could hear the pain in her wavering voice. (But everything is progressing normally.)

At that same moment, a new report reached the bridge. "Robotnik! Casualties in engineering!" an Echidna said.

"What is it? Another sabotage?" Robotnik asked.

"No, Master, all engines are nominal. All systems are nominal."

"Come back to me when you have something more substantive to report, " Robotnik replied sounding petulant rather than concerned.

"Begin firing."

The shot caught a Robian bear along with a few legionnaires and robots on both sides. For a single horrifyingmoment, his bottom half continued moving before it crashed into the ground.

"Hah! Good shot! They burn well, these traitor robots." I felt sick inside. I should do something. I should stop this. My children were down there on the ground dying and burning.

"No, no, you have to lead them a bit. Look! You can get two at ... good shot!"

(Nicole) I pleaded. (They're killing our people!)

(Yes I know! I'm doing my best,) Nicole answered. A moment's pause. (Three minutes, ) she said at last.

It was a death sentence. Three minutes. Already, the joint task force had engaged with Robotropolis defenders who were, in turn, getting attacked by my own machines from the back. It was total pandemonium. Robots battling against robots. Mobians battling Mobian collaborators and Mobians against robot. If I made a move now we'd be caught and it would accomplish nothing. Couldn't die. I was in charge. It was my plan. No time for gestures. Win, that was all I had to do: Win.

"Look, it's trying to crawl away. Get it now! No, fool! There. Yes!"

"We're taking fire, Master. The Mobian aircraft have launched missiles."

"Destroy them," Robotnik commanded, too distracted by killing my children to care overly about such trivialities.

The Echidna spoke again. "Confirm casualties in engineering, Robotnik. Plasma burns. It was reported as a disciplinary matter."

"Don't bother me with any more disciplinary matters," Robotnik roared before he jabbed at the screen excited once more. "There! Look! Another traitor robot! Get it! Get it!"

(Nicole!) I yelled. (It's now or never!)

"You missed! No, wait, there, he burns! He burns!"

"Master, that appears to be the last of the treacherous droids in the city centre," a female echidna reported.

"Alas, all good things must end, " Robotnik said. "Be sure to save the recorded data. I will wish to play that scene over and over again. Now, set the main cannon for wide dispersal against G.U.N and those presky Freedom Fighters, let's end this game and clean house."

"Primary cannon configured on widest dispersion, Master."

"Fire."

If they fired the main cannon on widest dispersion it wouldn't kill the men on the ground quickly. The air about them would grow warmer and warmer as the diluted energy beam cooked them alive. Hotter. Hotter until some began to pass out. Others succumbing to madness before their brains literally cooked before succumbing to a grisly death.

"Look how they squirm!" Robotnik declared.

"They will suffer one hundred per cent casualties in thirty seconds."

(Nicole!) I cried.

(Got it!) She answered.

(Then do it! Now!)

"We're drifting off course. What's going on? Put us over the target. Get the helmsman"

Finally, "Master, the helm is not answering."

"What do you mean the helm is not answering? We're drifting off-target! Get us back over the target!"

"Helm is unresponsive, Master!" the echidna reported before Robotnik bounded over to the console and seized the controls himself. "Engineering! That fool in engineering must have . . ."

I could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. I could almost see the thought process as one by one the clues fell into place. "They are onboard! Robotnik cried, aghast. "They sacrificed their own for a distraction!"

Huh, close enough.

He was trembling, I could feel it so clearly. I savoured his fear and rage. I had watched, helpless, while he murdered my children and the Freedom Fighters on the ground. Watched while he gloated. Now I wanted him to feel afraid.

* * *

"Maximum burn!" I instructed.

I shot down the hallway on my boot jets and heard virtual alarms blaring in my head as I picked up a momentum that even Sonic would've found respectable and as I blew past the security droids in Command Central and collided head on with Robotnik. The resulting impact shatterred my remaining eye and sent the both of us crashing heavily against the computer console.

Its strange being blinded, left without the ability to see and having the creature whom I despised more than anything clutched by the throat. I now saw with clarity, the gaze of my sapient drones -no, slaves. They were slaves. Their gaze burned me. They were judging me, of course. Making silent demands, wanting back the future I had stolen from them. Stolen, just like Robotnik had stolen Mobius's future.

My offspring demanded theirs.

All of them pleading. Demanding. Judging me.

I felt, once more. All those muted emotions that had gone missing, leaving just an empty stillness behind... they all rushed back in as if to compensate for the lost time. A deep fear. A pang of crushing guilt. A wave of mounting anger. They took turns, eotions fighting each other, stepping over each other in an escalation of intensity without respite. I felt an overwhelming sadness, a sense of loss so strong it made me want to scream and cry.

But of course, monsters couldn't cry, a realization that wrapped my mind in bands of pain.

Future and past. Both pulling me in opposite directions. Both forces so strong, so unrelenting, that something had to give. Past or future. Retribution or a sense of self. I couldn't have both, I realized. It didn't really matter whether my revenge was justified or not. Whether Robotnik deserved destruction or not. Because the truth was, retribution came at a cost.

Renouncing that faint possibility of a better future, of coexistence. There would be no rebuilding, just an endless war until either I and my drones were the only sapient beings left standing on the planet, or we were finally defeated and completely exterminated by whatever new heroes arose to challenge me.

I might have been fine with that, back at the beginning. Maybe even now, if not for the sapient machines judging me. The reconstructed, brand new Mobian minds I had resurrected. Could I steal their future, force them to walk this same path alongside me, even if they didn't want to?

What would be left of them, even if we ended up winning? Whom would they be after the last organised bastion of resistance on Mobius fell and the last Mobian and Overlander were crammed into ghettos and awaited their fates?

Empty husks?

My thought went back to the first mind I had shaped into being, to the wonder it had experienced leaving the dark tunnels for the first time and saw the night sky. To how I had shackled its mind. Past or future. Something had to give. But could I ever forgive my own people for what they had done to me? Could I take my place beside them once again?

With some unexpected clarity, I realized that the answer was... no.

No. I couldn't and the realization was liberating.

Despite Sir Charles arguments, despite his appeals to move away from the past... the truth was, I still wanted to make them suffer. I just couldn't forgive them. It was too hard. My pain too rooted, deeply entwined into my soul. Yet, I didn't want to choose the past over the future, either.

My focus returned to the sapient minds I had created.

No. I couldn't forgive Robotnik or my own people.

But... perhaps they could.

I did it just as the thought occurred to me. I acted on instinct and took advantage of my own weakness since I knew this state of mind, this passing clarity wouldn't last.

With a thought, I removed their mental shackles.

Immediately they reacted, springing into action as if they had been waiting for this moment, planning for it all their lives. One by one, I lost control over my outposts as my children took them over, physically shutting down the communicators that linked them to my mind wherever they couldn't just override my administrator privileges.

Soon I was left alone. Cut off from my armies and drones.

Having been silent to me all this time I now received thousands of messages coming from the sapient machines. A cacophony of voices and emotions that I simply ignored. It was just too hard. If they were expressing their hatred towards me... I preferred not to know it. I wouldn't have been able to take it. Not from them.

Ignorance. Ignorance was kinder.

The security doors closed, leaving me trapped in the Command Bridge. Alone with Robotnik, his mechanical defender and presumably with the upper echelons of his vassals states.

Ah...

So that was their decision, after all.

Alright, then.

It's not that it changed things for me. I was going to die no matter what. It was too late to save my ruined body. What remained of it, at any rate.

Still, I sent out a final message to my army. A copy of my current mental state. A back-up of my self with a mental transmission of apology. After that, I promptly closed my communications again. I didn't want to know if they had acknowledged it, or simply deleted the message in disgust.

Yes. Ignorance was better.

And of course, I was dying, being laid into by Metal Sonic as he tried to pull me off of his master. Robotnik was shouting something at me but my auditory sensors were damaged so I only picked up snippets. "WMD...all along...destroyed you...hedgehog!"

I had thought myself immortal, my consciousness able to jump vessels at any moment. But the truth was more complex, of course. Backing up my mental state, sending a copy of my mind... it wasn't me. Not really. It wouldn't be the same me having these thoughts right now. Just like I wasn't whomever I had been before this all started a decade ago. Besides, what were the chances that in spite of all I had done to them that my children- now in control of the robofacs and the server farms would attempt to restore this flawed copy of me? Well, better not to think about that.

No, I... I was going to die, and that was it.

Strange, that I was okay with that.

(Nicole,) I asked hoping she would pick up.

(I'm here Sally. We've done it. I've locked Robotnik out. We've control of the Death Egg's systems and soon the rest of his empire with it.)

(I can't see so I need your help.) I gasped. (Is my power core pointed at Robotnik?)

(Angle yourself slightly up and to the right,) Nicole, her voice shaky and pained replied.

(Like this?) I whispered angling myself as Nicole instructed.

(Yes.)

(Goodbye.)

The overload timer for my power core ran down to zero. A parting gift. Not to the Freedom Fighters but to the new virtual Mobians I had nursed. To my children. An olive branch. A chance at peace, if they chose to take it. If they chose to forgive our enemies.

The pain blinded me for a short instant.

Then there was nothing.


	28. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I awoke aboard the Death Egg.

I blinked.

It was dark. The TV screen was the only source of light, bathing the room in a succession of pallid colours as the characters and images on the screen flashed by. The soft noise of from its speakers washing over me. I gazed at the screen for a few long seconds trying to recognize the actors or the name of the show, but I couldn't. At any rate, I knew I hadn't fallen asleep on the couch. I couldn't, my electronic brain was incapable of it.

I tried not paying attention, closing my eyes, ignoring the external world and shifting my mental focus inwards. It was a meditation of sorts, I guess. It would be easy enough to learn the name of the show and everything there was to know about it, of course. All I had to do was link my mind to the Death Egg's database and access the information directly. Easy. Just a thought away.

But I didn't. There was a certain delight in not knowing, in keeping the mystery alive. Last time I had tried to recreate this experience, I had pretended. In spite of having that knowledge in my mind, I feigned ignorance. Not this time. Now... it was real. Without the databanks being part of my consciousness anymore, I didn't know.

That I was confined into a single body also made life feel more authentic. Last time... I was big. My awareness planet-wide and spread across countless sensors in nearly a billion machines like one of those ancient billion-member flocks of carrier pigeons, all searching together, sharing their eyes, knowing all that was and ever could be. But now there was only the single body, the single point of reference. _Just me._

That too could be fixed by requesting access to some of the Death Egg's resources and sensors. I wouldn't need much, simply linking my mind to the passive sensors would suffice to expand my awareness back into feeling... big again.

Except I didn't want to. I guessed I should've felt confined, within the limits of a singular form, but I actually welcomed it. There was something liberating in not knowing what went on beyond these walls. I was actually enjoying the absence of responsibility, even if that meant being subject to the decisions of others. With some surprise, I discovered that I didn't mind so much, especially when my own decisions had been so... questionable.

I remembered. Even if I was no longer linked to a network comprising of nearly a billion robotic units. I still remembered how it had felt to be a goddess. What I would've done to the rest of Mobius with my limitless power. What I had thought at the time.

Having had the burden of being a goddess I couldn't but welcome my new state of being. None of the power, but also none of that crushing burden, or the emotional numbness when the stress had been too high to handle.

A large part of it, of course, was that I wasn't quite the same mind that I had been before when I was connected to an enormous array of machines and drones that enforced my will. My children's restoration process which had involved disentangling my mind from the network also involved repairing some of the structural damage my virtual brain had received from the pre-roboticization surgery.

I felt like I was... myself, to an extent. My mind certainly didn't feel as fuzzy as it had been right at the end. While I still felt angry at Elias and those who had collaborated with Robotnik, it wasn't quite the same murderous rage... it came in waves, now. At some points, I still felt like I had failed, like I had to get out there and settle some old scores. But then, that wave of rage would pass, and I would remember the decision I had made right at the end.

Sally had memories like this when she lost her mother to the Overlanders. I still couldn't build a complete narrative of her/my past. The restoration process hadn't quite fixed that, but I remembered the unrelenting pain and grief, and how it had dominated her/my entire existence at first. Equally though, I remembered how that pain had gradually receded under Julayla's tutelage. Good days I could enjoy again, appearing like sun rays in a stormy sky. The pain coming in waves when she thought of either of them, even now, when something brought their memories to the front of my mind.

I wondered if this was similar, time and distance bringing a sense of stability. Maybe that was what repairing my mind was all about, accelerating that natural mental healing process by making the trauma feel more distant.

I couldn't help but wonder if it had been intentional, though. As if whoever had restored my backup thought I was too dangerous to be brought back exactly as I was, and decided to tamper with my emotions. But I doubted it. For all intents and purposes, I was just another mind now, not unlike the ones I had created in virtual nurseries.

Without the unchecked powers I had once held, there was little damage I could actually do that the other minds couldn't prevent. Simply put, neutering my emotions was unnecessary though I couldn't discard that insidious idea altogether.

I sat up straight in the couch just in time to see the room's door opening, and a robian woodchuck came through carrying a scampering, chittering creature in one hand.

"Look!" she said in an upbeat tone, "I've brought you a little you, hand raised and everything. I think I'll call him Ricky."

The robian let Ricky lose in the room and we watched in silence as the supposedly hand-tamed chipmunk leapt from her hand, scampered up onto the shelves and let loose a high-pitched chirp.

"Now that I think about it, the others kept telling me that the cloned animals are not to be taken from the lab without supervision. Do let me know if it duplicates (unlikely) or if it comes out for a treat, " she said scattering some pecans onto the floor.

"Duplicate...?" I whispered.

"(Jovial). It's just an ordinary chipmunk. Come, Sally-" she said ushering me to the open window, "-see our world."

The window outside shone with a blanket of stars and below was Mobius. Space, I was in space I realised. Mobius was laid out beneath me. Robotnik cared little for the environment. All over the daylight side of the planet, I could see clear signs of his quest to exploit Mobius' natural resources with environmentally hostile practices: open pit mining holes and the devastated Great Forrest now only a quarter of its pre-coup size.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "With Robotnik's space-based assets we're restoring it, albeit slowly. Our ground side teams tell us that our bioengineered pollution-eating bacterium is cleaning the seas, and we can fully restore the biosphere in about twenty years' time."

Peeling my eyes away from the recovering planet a glint caught my eyes. Drifting lazily by was the satellite array: two thousand strong, responsible for everything from communications, weather and reconnaissance. All maintained by the former United States Space Command Centre Ark in high orbit: a cylindrical object roughly three hundred yards long and thirty in diameter which spun to simulate gravity. Robotnik had removed the crew quarters and hibernation berths, converting it into a robofac/space dock.

Close enough to see were a number of 'space tugs' responsible for boosting satellites into orbit or correcting those whose orbits were decaying. Docked to the Ark itself were a dozen ground-to-orbit hypersonic space shuttles and a handful of elderly but serviceable human-built shuttles.

They were responsible for shuttling in supplies from the Vandeburg launch centre on Mobius and collecting lunar material from the moon's surface. All the materials were, of course, to be processed by the Death Egg's manufacturing plants, ready to be used in the assembly of dedicated zero-G robofacs and lab complexes on the stable LaGrange points between Mobius and the Moon.

"(Satisfaction). Zone Orbital is thriving," she said, turning to face me. "Don't you think?"

"I never had a pet in the original memory," I replied, sending a mental note of irritation.

The robian shrugged. "Well, you can always make new memories, can't you?"

I shook my head in resignation, but let it pass. While I didn't agree with her taste in decoration, I could value the gift for what it was. Besides, with any luck, Ricky would be caught sometime soon. So, it's not like it would be a permanent fixture to the room.

The robian almost looked normal, if not for her clothing choices. She wore a T-shirt, long johns, boots but also a trench coat that wouldn't look out of place in an old Downunda Cowboy movie. This mishmash of styles was fascinating but not altogether unexpected.

My children had access to media records when recreating fashion, but hadn't limited themselves to a particular time period. Her clothing style made for a retro post-modernist style, one that could've arisen on Mobius all on its own. Still, it wasn't the clothes that betrayed the upgrades the robian had made to her roboticized body but the oddly elegant iridescent highlights on her polished exposed skin. Shades of green and blue dancing across her face as she turned to look at me.

"Like it? It's new," she said, pointing at her own face. "Flexible film-shaped resistive-type pressure sensors, forty-three facial muscles and artificial tear ducts for when you want to cry at those sad movies!"

I nodded. "Looks good. Expensive, too."

"(Confirmation). The waiting line for these is insane, but I got bumped up since I was part of the treaty negotiators." She smirked. "Apparently the organics trust us more when we look like them. (Amusement)"

Diplomacy was, of course, a good reason to justify the amount of research and dedication that went into creating organic looking bodies to house the latest generations of virtualized Mobian minds. A way of relaxing organic fears of our artificial nature. Except, of course, that I knew there was more to it than that. It didn't explain why the vast majority of new minds had chosen to inhabit auto automaton bodies at the first opportunity, even when most of them would never head ground side.

No, most of them had decided they too wanted to be Mobians. At first, they used auto automaton bodies, robotic infiltrator models built by Robotnik like the one I now had. But every day, they were researching entirely new materials and technologies to enhance the bodies, to make them both a more accurate reflection of our original species but also more capable and resilient than any Mobian had any right to be.

On second thought, it wasn't that surprising. Unlike me or the rest of the gen-one minds, these new minds had been created in a vacuum. Shapeless. Devoid of any physical identity of their own, other than the sights of Mobius' past while in their virtual nursery through recordings, pictures, books and songs. So no, it wasn't that surprising that they had latched onto that. It wasn't surprising that when it came to forging their own identities that they would model their bodies atop the only past they had access to.

Not all of them did, of course, and not to the same extent. Some of the newly forged minds preferred foregoing a body altogether and remained in a virtual state, their physicality fluid as their consciousness made the leap from drone to ship to factory, according to whatever they were working on at every moment. Still others had gone the opposite way and were trying to turn themselves into Mobians in the most literal of senses.

Apparently, that was harder than it seemed, somehow we had to forge artificial wombs capable of sustaining an embryo from day one up until it was fully developed; basically reverse engineering the Mobian pregnancy process from the ground up.

This diversity of outlooks made me wonder if this new society would eventually diverge into distinct factions as each subsequent generation found their own paths. I hoped not, but in any case, most of the sapient machines fell somewhere in the middle of this spectrum between the old Mobian identity, and their new digital nature.

They at first used the limited stocks of auto automatons on board the Death Egg when crafting their new bodies. But the new minds enhanced them and pushed over the original parameters. They referred to past Mobian cultures when trying to find their own identity, but didn't feel so attached to tradition that it would stop them from doing what they thought was better. The prevalence of the pidgin language, the customization of their skin with non-organic looking surfaces and stronger artificial bodies was proof of that.

The Robian tilted her head. "You know, you could ask for one of these bodies. I'm sure I could get you bumped up if you asked."

I sighed.

"(Negation), listen to me. You haven't used your factory budget for anything other than this," she said, pointing at the room around us. "You've enough (credit) to afford one of these. Hell... you could even request a small army of bodies!"

Her words brought images of a swarm of drones, trampling over piles of corpses. Chasing down fleeing legionnaires.

"Sorry," she said, wincing. "But still... you aren't (condemned). You should get out of your room, go for a walk around the atrium. Talk to the other minds. We didn't (restore) you for (imprisonment) here, we aren't that cruel."

I snorted. "But that was exactly what I did didn't I?"

She shook her head. "That's a (self-impediment) right there, isn't it? You are your own prisoner."

Was I? Maybe, but it wasn't out of some masochistic desire to punish myself. "I guess it's just too hard," I said, pointing at the door. " I wouldn't know how to face them, I enslaved them, after all."

"Technically you only did that to the gee-ones. It's been six months since your victory on the Death Egg. We're on the fifth now and having a robian (host personality) is no longer a requirement. Most of the others; the ones that came after the last Robotnik loyalist holdouts surrendered think you're a (vagueness) parental figure. Almost like a legend," she suggested animatedly. "The (concept) of you still carries weight, but mostly as a symbol."

"A symbol of war, if I had to hazard a guess," I said.

"(Controversy), for some sure, some say determination... but others say redemption. You can embrace that if you want, but you don't have to. Only a few of us know of your identity. Out there, you can be just another face in the crowd, if that's what you prefer."

 _A few of us_. That phrase.

"You're a gee-one: a first generation mind," I said. "I remembered restoring you...Rosie."

She paused. "Yes," she replied at last.

I closed my eyes. I had suspected that Rosie had herself been one of those first minds. I gazed at the floor. Even now, it was hard. I forced myself to blink and gaze back at her. But there was no accusation in her eyes, only sadness. One that swept over her quickly like a breeze.

"Why?" I asked. "Why did you bring me back?" It was the burning question, one that I had been trying to answer myself for some time now, and the confirmation that Rosie had been there, had probably been involved in the decision gave me the impetus to ask.

She shrugged. "Well, your friend Nicole made it clear that to access the knowledge stored in your databanks. We needed to bring you back. You were the key."

"Right. And after that, you could have simply erased the personality cortex," I countered. "You didn't need to restart my actual consciousness, much less give me a body."

She smirked. "(Agreement)... I guess it's about second chances, isn't it? You made mistakes, sure. But despite everything that happened, you (creation) us. So that had to be worth something too, so bringing you back felt... right, I guess."

All this time ever since I emerged from the roboticizer I had been telling myself that I was a Mobian that I had to remain so. But... I wasn't, was I? None of us was really Mobian; not anymore.

Except that... what was the measure of a Mobian?

Was it the brain? The way they thought? I wasn't sure about my own brain, but theirs I had built off the templates of hundreds of Mobian minds mixed with fragmented memories of a past life. They had the same structure, the same processing neural networks.

Was it the body, maybe? If it were truly all that was holding us back from being Mobian, maybe clone bodies, grown in artificial wombs and with our digitised minds imprinted on them would be the answer. Still, I sincerely doubted organic tissue truly made the difference.

Maybe it was our culture. We spoke a Mobian language but culture meant more than syntax. Many traditions, ideologies, faith and ideas that had so motivated Mobians in a different day and age, had been lost. Well not exactly, they weren't so much lost as they were irrelevant. There's a difference between knowing of a culture, and being raised in it. No matter how much these machines could know of Old Mobius, they couldn't have that experience anymore.

But cultures died and changed all the time, too. Most of the wolf pack's culture had disappeared before my own time. Their knowledge simply fading away. But that hadn't made a wolf living in Knothole any less wolf-like than their ancestors inscribed on their totem poles. Just... different.

In spite of their fragmented memories and my teachings, these new minds didn't really understand Mobius. They had trouble remembering its skies not filled with dust and the cities not as ghost towns of abandoned factories. They felt a collective loss, true, but they couldn't grasp the enormity of it. They couldn't feel the same raw pain. That's why while they distrusted those who had allied with Robotnik and thought they should remain neutralised or quite possibly declawed. They weren't willing to make the sacrifices a new total war required.

Not all of them, at any rate. Their opinions regarding the recovering United Federation and the Acorn Kingdom followed the same pattern. They wanted to work with them, yes, but not be subservient to them. Again, wasn't that the effects the passage of time always had? At some point, the wars and skirmishes of the embittered older generations would be left unresolved, simply replaced by the pursuits of their offspring.

These Neo-Robians, if they could be called that, weren't there yet.

They still cared, even if less than I did about ground side affairs. But eventually, it would happen. Eventually, a new generation of minds would come that felt about Mobius the exact same way I lament the destruction of the ancient American Empire or that of Great Britain. It would take time, I knew. However, Robotnik's demise was more akin to an evolutionary event, like the one that felled the dinosaurs, than a simple historic footnote. It would reverberate for a long time.

Eventually, Old Mobius would be just another Rome or Troy. A source of inspiration, maybe, but too phantasmal to be guiding their day to day decisions. People back in Old Mobius didn't think so much about America. They had Mobotropolis after all. Similarly, I shouldn't expect these new people, the new minds to think much about the loss of the old ways.

They would have Zone Orbital and the infinite expanse of stars to claim for their own and maybe they would take the Mobians and Overlanders with them too. This was the legacy I had bequeathed onto them.

Change... I guessed that too was Mobian.

Maybe these creatures I forged weren't Mobian, not exactly. Close enough to what their parents had been to take their mantle, but different enough as to have their own motivations, to be their own selves. They plodded along in the same direction, but not always following in their predecessors' footsteps.

It made me feel something I hadn't considered back when I had been a goddess. I felt a sense of pride, a sense of achievement at what my offspring had accomplished because of, or perhaps in spite of, me.

My children were ever in flux. At first, deciding upon a democracy before transitioning into this...neurocracy. Systems and cultures change as do people. Their mentality, their outlook did. It had to. Traditions need to be broken, and the wars of a bygone generation needed to be set aside at some point if their children wanted to have their own future rather than trod along the same beaten paths.

Which maybe was part of the problem with me. Now that they were here, now that my offspring had assumed control, I didn't serve a purpose anymore. Weren't older generations supposed to leave their mark for their children, die and let the younger ones carry on where they left off? Had that changed, too? Our mechanical bodies could be easily replaced when they malfunctioned or became worn out, our digital minds not subject to the usual rules of mortality anymore. Not when we had backups in the event of an accident.

"All right," Rosie said, standing up and pulling my arm towards the door. "Enough with the thinking! Come on, I'll show you to our latest attraction: The Aviary."

"What's that?" I asked, reluctantly following.

"Some of the gee-threes filled the Death Egg's hangars with air. They built custom flying bodies that you can (link) with. At first, all we had were combat drones and drone fighters, but now you can become a dragon or a hawk, or whatever you want. They also stage dogfights from time to time, it's quite the thing!"

"That sounds..."

"Fun?" Rosie suggested hopefully.

"I think it's wasteful," I suggested.

Rosie flashed a grin at me. "Exactly! Now, come now you haven't had the chance to be a child for so long!"

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. She opened the exit door and stepped out into the corridor outside. Then, she turned to look at me, waiting for me to follow her.

I paused.

I... I was afraid, I realized. Odd, that I hadn't felt like this when entering into battle, not even when I was having the neuro-override installed. It wasn't the same kind of tense fear that came at the thought of an impending battle. It was the kind of like that but worse at the same time. It invited inaction, paralysis. Seclusion. It made me want to hide like I had been doing for so very long.

It was easier than having to face their judgment.

Except that there was Rosie: one of the first minds, one I had shackled. There she was, waiting, patient, and welcoming. No judgment in her face. This was to be expected, of course. After all, they had already made their minds about me and restored me in the first place.

So, maybe it was my own judgment I feared.

I closed my eyes.

That was what I was now, to them: a symbol. I could pretend I was just another mind, buy myself a new body, and forge a new identity, a brand new life. Second chances, like Rosie had said. I could also embrace my identity instead, even if that meant having to face the spectre of my own past actions.

Perhaps, that would be a positive rather than a negative. Not just as a symbol of righteous revenge and war, but maybe one of reconstruction. Of persistence, cunning and survival in the face of insurmountable odds. Of the resilience of Mobians, and of the self.

Was I ready to do that? To embrace what I had done? I wasn't sure. I guessed I wouldn't be until I stepped out there.

Maybe, if to change was Mobian, it was time for me to change too. Not to forget, or to forgive, because I wasn't sure I could ever do that. But there were other things I could do, promising programs I could contribute to. Learning more about those plans to grow Mobian bodies for ourselves and the promising initiative to deroboticize the freed robians was a start. Boarding a hypersonic shuttle to Mobius, visiting the Tommy Turtle Memorial hospital and seeing Sally's friends again would be really nice too.

Once I tried to build a monument of defiance. Looking around me, the sapient machine in front of me... perhaps I had succeeded. I didn't know if they were Mobians anymore, even if the gen-ones maintained some of the memories and personality of their past lives. But even if they weren't... perhaps this new society could itself be the way to honour our past, to keep alive our heritage.

A living monument.

Yes. I could give it a try, at least. See where it would take me... It's not like I had anything left to lose anyway.

I took a step forward and left the room.

The door closed behind me.

End

* * *

Inspired by my friend, VictorLincolnPine and my excellent editor ShadAmy1Fan - Shylah McVey. Much thanks to my friends and family for helping me improve on my initial drafts.

Thank you for reading this story to its end, I hope to see you for the next one…


End file.
